Love & Sunshine
by AnthroQueen
Summary: Or, thirty ways those five years could have gone. A 30kisses challenge.


**Hello friends and happy April! Hopefully it's well into spring where you are and all is well. Unsurprisingly, Orlando has once again decided to skip spring and jump right into summer (it was 93 degrees today! Help me!) and so I'm melting, but hey. I did this to myself, right? Anyway, I'm here with another 30kisses challenge, much like "There's Something About You and I" and "Hey Baby, I Think I Wanna Marry You." Don't worry- this one isn't a proposal fic and not one of these little vignettes includes a proposal. You're probably as sick of reading those as I am hesitant to post them LOL.  
**

 **Instead, this one tackles that five-year time jump that Marlene thought was such a great idea. It starts after 6x10 and basically gives you a look at what I think maybe could have happened had Marlene not completely forgotten about who her characters were and what they would and wouldn't do or say. Basic characterization, am I right? Whatever. It is what it is and if I have to live in AUs the rest of my life, so be it. :)**

 **This is list Epsilon of the 30kisses challenge, or the list with the "sweet" restriction, meaning each of these must have a general sweet undertone or theme. They're cheesy and fluffy af, so no angst here. Stay tuned in the near future- I may or may not have a multi-chapter fic coming your way, depending on whether or not some plot points agree with me. Regardless, it's not like this is the last time you'll be hearing from me, lbr LOL. I love you all. You are wonderful, majestic little sunflowers and I couldn't do any of this without you. Much love, peeps.**

* * *

Love & Sunshine

~* A 30kisses Challenge *~

 **01- oranges**

She tosses yet another t-shirt of his into the open suitcase on her bedroom floor and doesn't chance a glance at him. He's sitting on her bed, absentmindedly peeling an orange, and staring out the open window, the room filling with the scent of sweet smelling citrus, freshly mown grass and the end of summer. It's getting harder to ignore the fact that she's leaving for D.C. in the morning; she'd managed to distract herself all summer with pool parties and bonfires and the first real chance to _breathe_ again now that their tormentor had finally been put to rest. She'd wondered- hoped, even, despite her life's philosophy- if she could make the summer endless, if she could cling on to every last second, every last lingering moment, and allow September and all its coming responsibilities to pass her by without a second glance. She hadn't been successful; Emily had left last week, Alison and Hanna were soon to follow and Aria leaves in the morning, same as Spencer. She glances at the welcome package from Georgetown sitting on her desk and for reasons she cannot explain, she thinks, _it's not fair._

It's bittersweet, perhaps. The first few months of her new life, a free one, one where she needn't look over her shoulder for –A at every turn, hadn't given her enough time to spend with those she loves most. And as excited as she is to start over in a brand new city where no one knows her name, it hurts her to think of what she is leaving behind. Or, rather, _whom_.

He stops peeling, seeming only now to have realized what he's doing. "What are you thinking about?"

Spencer shakes her head, folds a few more shirts aggressively and then zips the top of her suitcase closed. "I'm not."

"Spencer," He says and that's all it takes these days. She's always so tightly wound, but he speaks her name and all the words and emotions and nerves spill out of her in ribbons.

"We didn't get enough time," She sighs. "I shouldn't be surprised; I mean, there's never enough time."

He's abandons the bed, crosses the room and opens the window facing the street a bit wider, the curtains billowing about like a 1920s film. She's hit with an outrageous feeling of déjà vu when he rotates the chaise of hers to face the window, lowers himself onto it and motions her over. "Come here."

She does not hesitate. Toby's arm comes around her, securing her in his arms where she belongs, and as his fingers begin to toy with the ends of her hair, Spencer thinks she could easily fall asleep again… if she wasn't so damn nervous and paranoid. He must sense this and it wouldn't shock her if he did, for he murmurs, "We're going to be fine. If this year is any indication, we can survive anything."

"But… But what if something happens?" Spencer wonders. "What if…"

"Honestly, what could happen to us that hasn't already happened?" Toby asks her. "If we've gotten through all of that, a little long distance and some frat boys who will no doubt fall in love with you won't be anything we can't handle."

"I only want you," Spencer says and he holds her a little tighter in response. "Hey. We should think of a code word."

"A code word for what?" Toby asks and Spencer sits a little straighter to look him in the eye.

"If one of us is so extremely miserable without the other," Spencer explains. "Or if we miss each other so much we can't take it anymore, we can use the code word and the other person can arrange an emergency rendezvous, no questions asked."

Toby chuckles. "Okay. What word?"

"I don't know," Spencer says. "Something random, but not _too_ outlandish that we sound like freaks if we say it out loud."

Toby glances over his shoulder at their abandoned snack on her bed. "Oranges."

"Oranges," She tries it on for size and then nods, kissing him for thinking of it and already tasting sweet fruit on his tongue. "I like it."

They share a tearful goodbye the following morning and Spencer begins her drive to Washington, long and slow. Her father talks the entire drive there, doesn't let her mother get a word in, and Spencer responds spiritlessly, her excitement incredibly diminished considering the other half of her heart had been left behind in Rosewood. The campus is abuzz with activity and Spencer meets her counselor and a dozen random faculty members and gains her room assignment and her head is spinning out of control. Without thinking, she reaches for her phone and texts Toby four orange emojis as they climb the stairs in her dormitory towards her new room. Her roommate is a tall, deadpan girl with no sense of humor and who nods towards the open bed, saying, "That box arrived for you. Who has your address already?"

Spencer doesn't know; _she_ doesn't even know her address, yet. She steps closer, rips the strip of tape off of the box and digs through the packing peanuts to find a small grocery store bag full of oranges. Tears come to her eyes as her phone buzzes in her pocket, the text from Toby reading, _Yeah. Me too._

 **02- pens on the floor**

It's been maybe three weeks and he's already here for a weekend visit. She's beyond glad, because she's been going through withdrawals.

The only problem is they can't seem to get rid of her roommate Talia.

Twenty feet over, she's slumbering in her bed, an arm thrown carelessly over her face in sleep, and Spencer and Toby are staring into the omniscient night, brooding. Toby reasons, "She seems… nice."

"She's not," Spencer whispers back. "She was smoking in here the other night, marijuana _of course_ , and when I told her to be careful, she said it didn't matter if she got caught because she's sleeping with the R.A."

"Okay," Toby smirks. "I mean, I guess that's one way to cover your bases."

Spencer sighs and crosses her arms over her chest. "I haven't seen you in three _weeks_. I'm dying over here."

He chuckles and reasons, "Hey, if she needs to sleep, she needs to sleep. She said she had to be up early."

"On a _Saturday?_ No one needs to be up early on Saturday!" Spencer exclaims and then eyes him, his blue eyes pale in the darkness. "Do you want to risk it?"

"Are you serious?" Toby hisses back. "You want to have sex with your roommate sleeping two feet away from us?"

"She's asleep! She'll never even know!" Spencer reasons. "You just have to be quiet."

" _I_ have to be quiet?" He returns and she wonders if, in the night, he can see the blush creep into her features. "This is a horrible idea."

"She won't even know."

" _I'll_ know."

"I'll help you forget."

And with that, she silences him with a kiss and there is no more conversation. Quarters are a bit more cramped than they're used to- dorms claim they have extra long twin beds but honestly, she could use a little more width than length- and he bangs his elbow trying to remove his shirt and she has to stifle her laughter until he can kiss it away. Her top and bra are off in record time and they've already begun to steam up the window beside her bed; Spencer reaches out with the hand that isn't tangled in her boyfriend's hair and yanks the curtain shut, blocking view of the voyeuristic moon. For a moment, as Toby kisses down her neck and her eyes roll with pleasure, Spencer turns her head to the side, biting her lip as she chances a glance at her roommate, but Talia hasn't moved a single inch and soft snores are still emanating from her sleeping form and so Spencer's pretty sure they're good. Her mind is soon occupied with more pressing matters.

She watches Toby as he fumbles with the button and the zipper on his jeans and grins victoriously because she's been wearing leggings; easy on, easy off. But then she peels back the sheets and comforter of her bed- because they both already have goose bumps- and hits her head off of the hard cinderblock wall and wonders why in God's name anyone would _ever_ have sex in a dorm room. Toby's eyes cloud with concern but she shakes her head; they've committed, at this point, and honestly, it's nothing in the grand scheme of things. Instead, she reaches up, pulls him on top of her and connects their mouths in a searing kiss, one he returns with equal vigor. Every nerve in her body comes alive at his touch and she digs her fingers into his back, pulling him closer, because three weeks is much too long to have gone without him. He settles between her legs and she sinks her teeth into his shoulder to suppress a moan when they connect, already feeling as though she could internally combust. Warmth and urging tension build deep within her and he kisses her feverishly, hungrily, as she meets him stride for stride.

It's the quietest they've ever been; she hardly even dares to breathe. Sweat begins to pool in her navel and she reaches up to swipe some of the dampened locks out of Toby's eyes, but in her throes of passion, she slips. Instead, her hand comes into contact with a cup full of pens and pencils on the desk beside her bed, which then tips over and careens to floor, hitting the ground with an echoing splatter. They both freeze; one of her hands is still perched on Toby's shoulder and the other is at the scene of the crime, gripping the desk in terror. Toby's still hovering over her, his eyes wide and chest heaving, and across the room, Talia stirs. _Talia, no, go back to sleep, Talia_ , Spencer chants like a mantra inside her head, feeling very much like an owner scolding her dog, but much to their chagrin, Talia rolls over, sits up, and stretches. Collapsing beside her in the tiny twin bed, Toby pulls the comforter up to their chins and still, neither of them breathes. Talia stands and exits the room, not bothering to lock the door behind her, most likely in search of the bathroom.

And then, there is silence.

"That was _way_ too close," Toby exhales finally, rolling onto his back. "We're never doing that again."

"Yeah," Spencer concurs but adds, "Speaking of close…"

"You're insatiable."

"What? We didn't finish and she's gone now, so…"

"Goodnight, Spencer."

 **03- ringing**

It's snowing so heavily the windshield wipers can barely keep up. Toby's driving at least twenty miles under the speed limit in an effort to make it home alive. Right about now, he's really regretting trying to make it home tonight. The second the storm started, he should've just stayed in Philly an extra night. It wouldn't have hurt him, honestly, except for the fact that it's the first night Spencer's been home since Christmas break and said brunette is waiting for him back home in the loft. Just the mere thought of that makes him want to abandon the truck on the interstate and get out and walk home. But he's close now, merely a dozen or so miles away, and certainly the ends will justify the means.

He's startled from his reverie a moment later by the ringing cell phone in his cup holder. Carefully, he presses speaker and he's instantly connected with his girlfriend, who sounds just as anxious as he is. "Where are you? You were supposed to be home hours ago."

"You should see this storm. And, of course, none of the roads are paved," Toby laments. "I'm on my way. I'll be there are soon as I can."

"Well, be careful. It's snowing here, too. Spring break, my ass."

He frowns and then asks, only half joking, "You regretting not going on that trip to Cancun with the girls yet?"

"No. I wouldn't have gotten to see you if I'd gone," She assures him. "And Aria didn't go either. It's okay. We're already planning something for the summer; something _everyone_ can do."

"Still. I feel like I kept you from having the quintessential spring break experience."

"There will be other spring breaks," She replies. "Honestly, I don't want to do anything. I want to sleep in a bed that isn't the size of a shoebox and I want to be with you."

"That can be arranged," Toby grins. "I'm almost home. You didn't have any trouble getting in, did you?"

"No, I still have my key, but you have _no_ food in the house. I'm starving."

"I've been gone for a week," Toby reasons. "We can order take out."

"I already did. We're getting Chinese."

"Good to know," He chuckles. "Okay, I'm going to go so I can focus on not wrapping my car around the guardrail-"

"Please don't even make jokes like that. You've already gotten into too many car accidents because of me."

He frowns but lets this go. He's not sure how many times they can have the same argument. "I'll be home soon. I can't wait to see you."

"Me either. Be safe."

Toby reaches Rosewood about a half hour later, puts the tired old truck in park and climbs the stairs to his loft. He barely has the door open before Spencer's launched herself in his arms and he stumbles a bit from the force, but he holds her just as tightly. It isn't until they're reunited each time- until he's holding her, kissing her, loving her- that he realizes just how much this long distance thing sucks. He has to cherish each smile, each profession of love, each embrace, and they must, somehow, last him until the next, unknown, time he sees her. She pulls back a moment to kiss him and it always ends much too quickly for his liking. But there's a bit of guilt in her eyes and when his brow furrows, he calls her out on it.

"I really was starving. I wanted to wait for you but I…" She trails off and he smirks, noting the takeout containers in the trash. "I didn't."

"As long as you didn't read your fortune yet," Toby replies and she shakes her head.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Spencer promises. "Although, I'm finally with you, so I'm not sure I care what that cookie says. My fortunes are pretty good right about now."

He grins and kisses her. As usual, she's read his mind.

 **04-** " **quid pro quo" (** _ **one thing for another**_ **)**

His footsteps echo across the marble and he wonders if this will be the time he holds it together.

This always feels like an out of body experience; he's here and he isn't, not really, and he can only focus on small details. The morbid smell of death, the lingering sorrow of mourners, the damp weight of the bouquet of flowers, the tight clasp of Spencer's hand in his. He's never asked her to accompany him; she'd always offered in the beginning and now she just complements him without question. He's always grateful. He could come alone and he has, but he much prefers to mourn someone he loves with a person who loves him right by his side. She slows her steps as they approach Marion's grave, because she, too, after all this time knows the trail by heart. Toby inhales and exhales a deep breath, feeling tears stinging at the backs of his eyes. No, this will not be the time he holds it together. He wonders if that time will ever come.

"Hey, Mom," He breathes, his voice quivering, and he curses himself for not being able to get a handle on his emotions. "Happy birthday."

Spencer holds his hand the entire time and after a long moment of silence, she trails her fingers across the smooth marble and asks quietly, "Do you want a minute? Alone with her, I mean?"

He does, but he also doesn't want her going anywhere, either. After a brief war with himself, he nods slowly and says, "Yeah. Thanks."

She nods and ducks out of the mausoleum, but not without giving his hand one last squeeze and pressing a kiss to his cheek. He doesn't have any clue as to what he would even begin to do without her. The tears stinging his eyes begin to cloud his vision, but he shakes them away, unwilling to let them fall. Instead, he tries desperately to control himself, to think of happier memories with her rather than her untimely death, and he realizes even now, seven years later, he can still hear the familiar lilt of her voice, the sweet sound of her laugh, the soft, loving intonation when she spoke his name. He spends a few more precious moments with her before saying goodbye, promising to visit more often, and then stepping out into the sunshine to find Spencer.

She's waiting just outside the door and wearing a bittersweet smile on her face. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Toby nods and threads his fingers through hers. "To the Grille?"

"Ugh, sure," Spencer groans. "I'm sorry I'm dragging you to this dinner."

"I wouldn't call it dragging since your parents invited both of us," Toby replies. "It's okay. Maybe this guy will actually be good for Melissa."

"They're never good for her," Spencer counters. "Need I remind you of the events that transpired at the last 'Melissa's engaged' dinner?"

"Ugh, no," Toby grimaces. "Dr. Feel Good's finally left our lives for good."

"Okay then," Spencer says. "At least I know I'm well protected, this time."

"What do you mean?"

"My boyfriend's a cop," Spencer smirks. "Most of the time, that just gives me anxiety, but in situations like these? I think it'll come in handy if he tries to make a move on me."

"Spence, if he tries to make a move on you, me being a cop is going to be the least of his worries," Toby says and she laughs as they approach the restaurant. "Come on. Everyone's already here. Let's go eat this dinner you're so incredibly thrilled about."

"I know you don't want to be here any more than I do," Spencer says as they grow closer to her family in the back of the restaurant. "So thank you, seriously, for coming with me and not making me go alone."

"Hey, seriously, it's no big deal," Toby tells her. "Like I said, we were _both_ invited and you're always there for me. You know I'll be there for you."

The grin that splits her face, then, is brighter than the sun could ever hope to be. He squeezes her hand as they take their seats and doesn't let go.

 **05- last in line**

She's jittering in line beside him like a giddy schoolgirl, an elated smile spread across her face, and she hasn't even had a drop of coffee today.

That he knows of, anyway.

"I've been waiting for this movie to come out for as long as I can remember," Spencer exclaims excitedly. "I'm sorry I commandeered date night but… Oh my god, I am _so_ excited!"

"It's alright," He chuckles and tries to peer around the very long line they've been standing in for the better part of an hour. He shivers a bit in the chilly December air and says, "Evidently, you are not the only one."

"Well the critics gave it high praise," Spencer says. "Not to mention it has an amazing cast and it's regarded as one of the greatest musicals of all time."

"Never pegged you for a musical girl."

"Well I'm not really," Spencer shrugs and they move a half an inch forward. "But there's something about this story that's just so captivating, you know?"

"Not exactly," Toby says and at her bewildered look, he adds, "We read the book in ninth grade and it was seven hundred pages of dull."

"Dull? _Dull?_ " Spencer exclaims. "I don't think I've ever heard anyone call _Les Mis_ _érables_ dull."

"Oh, then you haven't been talking to the right people," Toby teases and she shoots him a pointed look. "Okay, okay. I was fourteen. I should give it a second chance."

"The musical's a _bit_ lighter, although not by much."

"I'll believe that when I see it… _If_ we get to see it."

After a beat of silence, Toby glances at Spencer and asks, "What?"

"It's just… He spent nineteen years in prison for _stealing a loaf of bread_ ," Spencer explains and Toby rolls his eyes, chuckling. "He's such a tragic hero and then there's Javert who really isn't all that different from Valjean and the battles and all of the gut wrenching metaphors… It's such a beautiful book and such a beautiful story."

"You sold me. Let's see this thing."

Except- they can't. By the time they get up to the ticket booth nearly an hour later, it's completely sold out. Spencer's mouth drops open. "What? But… But we've been waiting… I've been _waiting_ to see this movie for years!"

The teenager inside the ticket booth is barely awake, slumped with his chin in his hands, and says, "Sorry. Long line. Opening night."

Toby asks, "Is there any way we can get in? Any other show times?"

"Best I can do is tickets for tomorrow," The teenager yawns. "Or half off a different movie."

Toby glances up at the list of films and asks, "Teen drama, gory horror film or that new thing with The Rock?"

Spencer sighs. "I guess the drama."

The teenager prints their tickets and as he does so, Toby adds, "We'd like the tickets for _Les Mis_ for tomorrow, too, if that's possible."

"Sure," The teenager responds, pushing them through the open window. "Have a good night."

Spencer glances at him with appreciation and adoration in her eyes as they step into the theater. "You didn't have to do that."

"Oh I know. It's going to totally _suck_ to go on a date with you _two_ nights in a row," He teases and her face doesn't change. "I wanted to. You've been dying to see that movie, so we're going to see that movie."

"Thank you," She kisses him out of gratitude and yet another incredibly bored teenager hands them 3D glasses as they find their theater. "Oh god, this thing's in 3D?"

"How did we get so lucky?" Toby jokes and they find their way into the empty theater, stealing seats in the back.

"Actually," Spencer says, and, once they're settled, finds a way to connect their lips once more. "I was just asking myself the same thing."

Needless to say, they don't see too much of the movie.

 **06- parachutes**

She hasn't been able to stop thinking about it since their phone conversation ended two hours ago.

It's been a fairly uneventful summer, but not for everyone. Emily had, mid-June, decided to make the cross-country drive to visit and reconnect with Paige, Hanna and Caleb had taken their very first trip together and Aria? Well, Spencer's head is still swimming with the adventures her best friend had just relayed mere moments ago.

But Spencer… well. Spencer had done this; they're lying on Toby's bed, his laptop balanced on her legs, and every so often he has to force himself to stay awake. Something's on Netflix, but she's not exactly paying attention and he's too exhausted, anyway; he's been working _killer_ hours this entire summer at the precinct and she barely gets to see him as it is. Still, she can't help but wonder…

It's after the fourth time he stifles a yawn that Spencer suggests, "Maybe you should get some sleep."

"I am exhausted but it's eight-thirty," Toby points out. "I can't go to sleep this early. I'm sorry. I know I haven't been much fun."

She shrugs, shaking her head. "You're fine."

"You've been quiet. Everything okay?" Toby asks and she makes a noncommittal murmur in response. "Thinking about leaving for school again?"

"No. It's just…" She trails off before asking, "Do you think we're boring?"

His eyebrows furrow together in confusion. "Do _you_ think we're boring?"

"Well, no, not really. But before you got home, I was FaceTiming with the girls and they were telling me all about their crazy summer escapades," Spencer explains. "I mean, Aria and this new guy she's been dating jumped out of a _plane_ today. An airplane! In the sky!"

"An airplane in the sky," Toby teases, stifling another yawn. "Who would've thought you'd find one of those up there?"

"You know what I mean," She shoves his shoulder and the laptop slides off of her lap and onto the comforter, forgotten. "Like, with parachutes. They went skydiving. That's so exhilarating; I had no idea Aria would even consider doing something like that."

"Are you telling me you want to go skydiving?"

"No, I'm just…" She exhales heavily. "I want more out of life with you than Netflix in bed, you know? Sometimes I feel like you work _so_ hard and that you don't ever get any time for fun, or that I'm so focused on schoolwork and advancing my nonexistent career that I ignore you when you _do_ have free time and we don't ever actually end up doing anything. I just… -A's gone and I have my life and my time back. But I feel like I'm wasting it."

Toby nods understandingly and asks, "And parachuting from fifty-thousand feet in the air is going to help you get that back?"

"No!" She laughs. "Will you forget about the parachutes for a second? I'm being serious."

"So am I," Toby says. "I've never been bored with you for even a single second since we've been together. Yeah, we both get caught up in our own lives sometimes and yeah, we could both be better at making time to spend actual quality time with one another. But we've also had plenty of adventures and I live for those moments. And the thought of the ones to come? _That_ is what we're working so hard for. Because you're right; it's something that wasn't ever guaranteed when –A was around calling the shots, but it's something we have the luxury of, now. _Time_."

"Really?"

"Of course," He nods. "Some of the best days of my life so far have been spent with you. Maybe the girls have different ways of keeping their relationships interesting, but I'll stick to ours. I'll stick to you."

Delightfully, she reaches forward to entangle a hand in his hair, pulling his mouth to hers. When they're through, he nuzzles their noses before nodding towards the bathroom. "Come on. I worked sixteen hours and I need a shower before I hit the sack."

She smirks. "You don't need my help to take a shower."

"Your help? No." Toby shakes his head and climbs off of the bed, extending a hand towards her. "Your company, on the other hand…"

Suddenly, her face is warm and she feels the familiar buzz race through her veins, jumpstart her heart. "I thought you were exhausted?"

He shrugs and shoots her that suggestive grin that completely melts her insides every time. "Second wind."

 **07- three times a day before meals**

Her sophomore year starts off with a shit ton of homework, an exam a week, an internship she absolutely loathes and Toby getting hospitalized.

It's a truth universally acknowledged that being thousands of miles away from a loved one when they're very ill is just about the worst kind of anguish imaginable (okay, so she's about two hundred miles away, but it feels like thousands). He's so weak and so sick that she cannot even speak to him on the phone and his texts are pithy and emotionless and reading them breaks her heart. He gets sick on a Wednesday, leaves the hospital Thursday afternoon and is banished to his bed until he starts making improvements, but Spencer's got coursework piling up and classes from eight until four, and then her internship after that, and she couldn't go home to visit even if she wanted to. It absolutely kills her; when he's better, she thinks, they're _seriously_ going to revisit the "please move down to D.C. so I don't go out of my mind with worry" conversation again. It always ends the same, but this time, Spencer's sure she's got a bit more leverage.

She can't focus; she sits in her Friday afternoon biology lab that she's only taking because she needs an easy gen ed and stares at her cell phone the entire time. Why, she's not exactly sure, because it isn't like Toby's gotten miraculously better in twenty-four hours and can call and tell her exactly that. But still, a watched pot never boils and her lab passes like grains of sand through an hourglass. She decides, in a split second, that she cannot take this slow torture and the moment they're dismissed for the day, she takes the subway to the train station and buys a ticket home. She simply cannot bear any longer to sit idly by while the love of her life suffers in sickness alone. It's a long journey and she doesn't reach Rosewood until well into the evening and she chuckles as she climbs the stairs to Toby's loft because she hasn't prepared for this at all; she's got her school bag with her and she's pretty sure a two-hundred-dollar biology book and a pair of safety goggles won't do Toby much good.

Quietly, she lets herself into his loft and locks the door behind her. It's dark, soft and quiet and she hopes this is because he's sleeping; in his short texts, he'd said that's pretty much all he's been doing. She drops off her things by the couch and stops in the kitchen to pour him a glass of cool water, wanting to flush him with fluids as much as possible. As she does so, she notes an orange plastic container plastered with _Cavanaugh, Toby_ in bold, black letters along with the dosage and she frowns the tiniest bit. Whatever's plagued him this early autumn has not only left him with a hospital stay under his belt, but antibiotics as well. Adding the pills to her stash, Spencer makes her way to his bedroom, knocks softly and wonders why she does so, because when she pushes the door open, she notes her boyfriend is out _cold_.

He's pale and clammy; it's the first thing she notices when she sits upon the bed beside him and runs a hand through the sweaty tendrils of his hair. The sight of him, lying here in a hazy fog of medication, ignites a physical ache within her heart and she curses her inability to come sooner. Pressing her lips to his forehead is like kissing the surface of the sun, but at this, he stirs and she watches as his eyelids flutter open and he gazes at her in confusion. Hoarsely, he asks, "Spencer? What are you doing here?"

"Surprise," She smiles even though, for some reason, she feels like crying. "I came to check on my favorite patient."

He exhales and rubs his eyes, struggling to sit and giving up the moment she lays a hand on his chest, shaking her head. "You didn't have to do that."

"Yes I did." Spencer disagrees. "Toby… You look like shit."

"I feel like it, too," He groans and then eyes the medicine in her hands. "You brought the goods?"

She smirks and hands them over, watching as he pops one into his mouth and downs it with the water she's brought as well. "Is it helping at all?"

"I guess," Toby shrugs and then reaches for her hand, saying, "I missed you. Thank you for coming."

"Are you kidding? I wish I could've come sooner," Spencer insists. "I've been so worried."

She presses another kiss to his forehead and he smiles tiredly. "Is it hot in here or is it just you?"

Smirking, she shakes her head. "I think that's the fever talking."

"You sure? You'd make a pretty beautiful nurse."

"Okay. I'm going to make you a cold compress," Spencer chuckles, heading to the bathroom to soak a washcloth in ice water. When she returns, she places it directly on his forehead and he shivers on impact. "That should help, I would think."

Again, he yawns, and says, "You take such good care of me."

"Get some rest. I'm not leaving you," She promises. "I'll be here when you wake up."

Toby obliges, but not before sleepily murmuring, "Love you."

Spencer grins and knows without a doubt that this time, it isn't the fever talking.

 **08- tattoos and piercings**

Most people plan what they're going to get for months and months, years even, but his had been a split second decision.

In retrospect, the first decision he'd made with his freedom hadn't been a stellar one; he was underage and had had to forge his father's signature on the consent form because Daniel would never have agreed and he'd taken a cab two towns over so as not to run into anyone he knew. He can still hear the faint buzz of the needle as it moved across his skin, feel the foreign sting of pain and the smell of fresh ink, and when the artist had finished, she'd sat back, glanced at her handiwork and asked what it meant. And he hadn't been able to answer that, because he couldn't- he _wouldn't_ \- dream of spelling out the years of torture and anguish the situation had brought him and how now, finally, he was free of that despair. It isn't like he's ashamed of his tattoo; on the contrary, he's still amazed he'd found the courage and strength to break free. But in the recent years, he's found himself cursing his youth and his foolishness for branding something so permanent onto his skin without thinking twice.

He wakes to the feeling of early morning sunshine on his bare back and soft fingers tracing patterns on his skin. Toby opens his eyes, glances around a bit, and briefly forgets where he is and what's going on. He has vague memories of their anniversary celebration the night prior, but all else is a blur. Spencer's lying in bed beside him and oddly enough, it's his tattoo that's caught her attention this morning as they lie there together, clothed only in bed sheets. She has such a focused, enthralled look in her eyes as her delicate fingers follow the dips and curves of the letters and numbers and she doesn't stop despite his awakening. He smirks and tells her, "No matter how hard you try, they don't come off."

She grins, too, asking, "And why would I want to get rid of them? Wouldn't that be like taking away your freedom?"

"I guess you could look at it like that," Toby yawns and rolls onto his back, the tattoo slipping from sight. "But I don't think either of us needs to worry. I'm a different person than I was back then."

"Yeah." Spencer agrees and eyes him, asking, "Have you spoken to her recently?"

"No," He shakes his head. "After my dad banished her- you know, after I finally told him the truth- she reached out to me a couple of times to try and make amends, I guess. I ignored her enough that I guess she got the message I wasn't in the mood to talk."

"It's okay to close the door on someone if they're toxic," Spencer echoes. "Isn't that what you told me once? About Alison?"

"Yes, and I should've known those words would come back to bite me in the ass." He replies. "I don't really have any desire to talk to her, but I also feel bad for not giving her a chance or hearing her out."

She frowns. "Well then, you're a better person than I am. But no surprise, there."

After a beat, she says, "I like it, you know. The tattoo. Makes you even more of a badass."

"How was I badass to begin with?"

"Are you kidding?" Spencer exclaims. "You're a cop. You own a motorcycle. You have a tattoo. I'm basically dating one of the Sons of Anarchy."

Toby laughs. "Yeah, that's _exactly_ what I am."

 **09- closet**

He's hiding in the closet because it was either that or pitch himself out of the fifth-story window of her dorm room. He _had_ wanted to surprise her, but not like this, and naturally, timing isn't on their side.

She's late; he's pretty sure her last class on Thursdays ends at four-thirty and it's well after five by now. Quietly, Toby reaches into his pocket, feeling around in the darkness for his phone, and then the screen illuminates the tiny space. No missed calls, no unread text messages. Frowning, he types a quick message to her and studiously ignores what's happening on the side of the room that doesn't belong to her.

 _Where are you?_

It takes a few minutes, but she replies, _Work… Why?_

Her internship! He curses his memory, or lack thereof, and replies, _When do you get off?_

 _8\. Again, why?_

Toby exhales as heavily and quietly as he can. He's not going to last in this tiny closet for three more hours, but judging by the stories Spencer's told him about her roommate, he's _pretty_ sure she will. He'd almost laugh at his predicament if it wasn't so damn pathetic. _I am in a bit of a jam._

 _What does that mean? Are you okay? What's going on?_

 _Last year, we had sex while Talia slept ten feet away from us and this year, the universe is getting back at me. Karma's a bitch._

 _What the hell are you talking about?_

There's a series of moans and a sharp gasp that makes Toby cringe. If possible, he presses closer to the wall and tries desperately to drown out the sound with a jacket of hers. _I thought I'd come down and surprise you and your R.A. thought it was the sweetest thing and let me into your room. And now I'm here and you're not but you know who is?_

 _OMG. No. Are you kidding? Why am I here if you're there?_

 _Spence, bigger fish. Sex is happening on the other side of your room and this is not how I wanted to meet your new roommate._

 _Wait, where are you?_

Sighing, he types back, _The closet_.

Four laughing emojis accompany her next response. _The closet?! Why the closet?! Why didn't you leave?_

 _I panicked! Help me! Call her with a fake emergency or something! Get me out of here!_

 _Okay, okay. She's cool, though; way better than Talia. Maybe you'll get to meet her with her clothes on someday?_

The unmistakable sound of a condom being torn open echoes off the cinder block and Toby cringes. _Call. Now. Please!_

And she does. But it isn't her roommate's phone that rings moments later. Toby's, instead, buzzes to life and he jumps at the sound, banging his head off of the top of the closet and knocking hangers and clothing to the floor. "Don't call _me!_ " he hisses, rubbing his head in pain and desperately trying to end the call before it begins. Spencer must realize her mistake, for the call is gone before he can ignore it, but it's too late. The damage is done. All movement has stopped on the other side of the door and Toby freezes, barely daring to breathe. And just when he thinks he's in the clear, the bedsprings creak and there are footsteps across the tile and suddenly, Spencer's closet door is open and Toby is peering down into the bright green eyes of a disheveled brunette he's never seen before.

Her mouth falls open and she asks, "What the…?"

"Hi," Toby replies lamely. "I'm sorry. I'll be going now."

He hops out of the closet and leaves the room and even later, when Spencer formally introduces them, Toby can't quite seem to look her in the eye.

 **10- red light**

"We can't keep having this same argument," Toby points out, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turn white. "We keep going around in circles and ending up at the same point."

"I don't know what you want me to say." Her voice echoes from the cell phone in his cup holder and, not for the first time, Toby wishes she were sitting beside him instead of fighting him like hell from miles away. "I can't… I can't do this right now."

"You can't do _what_ right now? Have this fight? Because if we don't talk about it…" Toby groans in frustration and inhales a deep breath, trying to keep his cool and also stay on the road. It's pouring rain and visibility is close to zero right about now and if this fight doesn't kill him, the weather sure will. "If we don't talk about it, it's just going to come back next week or next month or next year, even. We can't just ignore things like we used to, Spence. It tore us apart back then and it'll do it now. Unless…"

"Unless what?"

"Unless that's what you want."

"Why would you think that's what I want? When have I _ever_ given you that indication?" She hisses back. "I can't _do_ this right now! I have so much on my plate. This internship is running me ragged and I'm behind in all of my classes, it seems like, and I have two huge papers due Monday that I've barely started and a project for my COM 345 class and I haven't even made up my mind yet about where I'm going to live next year or who with or about grad school, or-"

"Or me?"

" _Toby._ Stop, okay? You're not helping me."

"I'm not trying to be…" He curses under his breath as an amber light fades to red and he steps on the brake a bit aggressively. "Look, we both have a lot going on right now and the distance definitely doesn't help-"

"Yeah, you encouraged me to go to this school-"

"I did! We both agreed it was your best option-"

"- I thought you supported that decision-"

"Spencer, I do. You know I support you one hundred percent and always have-"

"- but I also thought you'd come with me, I _wanted_ you to come with me, and you're still in Rosewood-"

"Things aren't that simple. I've got a job, I'm still doing a little carpentry on the side, I'm doing the best I can-"

"- and I'm just feeling so overwhelmed and my stress level is through the roof and I know I'm only a sophomore but I feel like I should have more of my life figured out by now and it just feels like… like something's holding me back. I can't figure out what it is, but I just don't think that… I don't know. And then on top of _all of that_ , you and I have been at each other's throats for the past two days and that's stressing me out because I hate fighting with you and it's just… Everything sucks right now. Why is it like this?"

"I don't know, but you need to breathe before you launch yourself into an anxiety attack," Toby exhales heavily and stares pointedly at the red light, willing it to change. "Maybe… Maybe _I'm_ holding you back."

There's a brief silence before she spits out, "What?"

"Maybe I'm the one who's causing you all of this stress," Toby frowns. "I mean, long distance is hard and you and I are both growing and changing and going through our own, different things…"

"Toby," Spencer cuts him off. "You are not holding me back. If anything, you're the one propelling me forward."

"I am?"

"Obviously," She replies and he's sure, even though he can't see her, that an eye roll has accompanied her statement. "You've always been my number one support system, from the beginning, and I can't imagine going through any of what I'm going through right now without you. Don't think for even a second that I would be better off without you. It's not true."

Toby smiles a bit and asks, "Does this settle things?"

"No. We're still fighting," Spencer counters and it's Toby's turn for an eye roll, this time. "But I love you and I need you and no stupid fight will ever change that."

His smile melts into a grin and the light turns green.

 **11- boiling tar**

"So what are you thinking?" Jack asks. "In terms of an end date, I mean? Next weekend, maybe? I've got to have this done for the family reunion next month."

"Nah," Toby shakes his head. "I can be done by Thursday if you can get me an extra set of hands for the gazebo. I'm no driveway expert, but I'll be finished with this by the end of the day and as long as you stay off of it for forty-eight hours, you'll be set."

"Thursday?" Jack exclaims in surprise. "Shit, really? You can get it done that fast?"

"Yeah," Toby nods and steps around the strip of tar, boiling under the summer sun, and towards his coworker, reaching for the blueprints he's drawn up. "I'm not an architect, but I did make a rough sketch of some of the designs you could use and as long as you're okay with them, I can get started whenever you're ready."

Jack looks these over for quite some time and shakes his head in disbelief. "You're not an architect?"

Toby rubs the back of his neck, suddenly self-conscious. "No, not officially."

"You should be," His colleague comments. "Seriously. This is impressive work. Why the hell are you a cop when you've got talent like this?"

Honestly, Toby's been wondering the same thing for a while. Jack nods, picks a design and tells Toby he'll pay him double if he can finish by Thursday. Toby ropes off the end of the driveway and then climbs into the truck, his thoughts occupied the entire drive home, and before he can even realize it, he's found his way to the Hastings' house instead. Spencer's been living in the barn all summer after deciding that her childhood bedroom resembles much more of a shrine to her former self than anything else and so he heads there first, finding her in the living space, scribbling something in an open notebook. Her eyes alight with glee upon the sight of him and she leaps up from her perch, greeting him at the door with a kiss.

"I thought you were working all day," Spencer comments when they're through, running her fingers through his hair. He kisses her again, hands at her waist, and knows paying her a visit wasn't a great idea; now that he's here, he doesn't want to leave.

"I am. I have to be at the station in thirty minutes," Toby laments but betrays his words when he pulls her closer. "But I thought I'd come by and see you."

"You're all sweaty," Spencer wrinkles her nose and then a very different look appears in her eyes, one he's seen countless times before. "Did you want to take a shower?"

"Not falling for _that_ one again," Toby chuckles and pulls away as her suggestive glance melts into one of innocence instead. He doesn't know how she does it, but it drives him wild every time. "I don't think they're going to buy my lame traffic excuse a second time."

"Amateur," Spencer shakes her head, collapsing back into the armchair and reaching for her notebook again. "I love you, but you're a terrible liar."

"Good thing one of us is," Toby teases and she shoots him a pointed look. "What are you doing?"

"Making a to-do list. Junior year is going to be so grueling, so I've got to be proactive," Spencer tells him. "I might die this semester."

"You're not going to die," Toby shakes his head. "If –A couldn't kill you, school won't, either."

"It's definitely not for –A's lack of trying, that's for sure," Spencer smirks. "How's Jack's driveway?"

"Good. I'm actually going to be doing a bit of more work for him. I'm building him a gazebo." He explains and then adds, "And actually… I've been thinking lately- _a lot_ \- about carpentry and how much I miss it and… I don't know. I think maybe…"

"Is this it? Is this the moment?" Spencer asks hopefully, her notebook abandoned once more as she rises to her feet. "Please finish that sentence the way I _hope_ you're going to finish that sentence."

He chuckles. "I miss it a lot and I think I want to go back to being a carpenter full time."

"And to think that I thought I could never love you more!" Spencer cheers, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I really don't need the added stress of being a cop's girlfriend, so from the bottom of my heart, thank you _so_ much."

"I'm not resigning just yet." He chuckles. "But someday soon. I think my current career has run its course and it's time to move on."

"You know I support you no matter what," Spencer says, pulling back to look him in the eye. "You know that, right?"

"Of course I do."

"Okay, good," She nods. "I just want you to be happy, all joking aside. If this is what you want, then this is what I want."

The sentiment turns his insides into goo; her unconditional support has always floored him. He kisses her and says, "You're amazing. I don't know what I would do without you."

"You're not too bad yourself," She grins. "And trust me, that feeling is mutual."

 **12- dragonflies and fireflies**

She moves into a three-bedroom apartment off campus with two of her best friends from school at the beginning of August and they're thick as thieves. School starts in two weeks and Spencer busies herself by spending most of the first week unpacking and getting herself settled before the homework piles up and she no longer has time for herself, anymore. Her roommates are fun and they go out to bars on weekends and stay up talking late into the night, or perhaps early into the morning depending on the way you look at it, but a part of Spencer really, truly, deeply misses Emily, Aria and Hanna. They haven't been reunited, all four of them at the same time, in _ages_ ; at least one of them was always gone over the summer and despite their daily group texts and weekly FaceTime conversations, they hadn't yet figured out a time to meet that was good for everyone. Spencer wonders if this is how it will always be from here on out.

On a whim, the night before classes start, Toby takes a train into the city and Spencer meets him at the station. She shows him around her new apartment, introduces him to the new roommates and then he treats her to a celebratory dinner to kick off her new school year. Afterwards, they walk hand in hand back to her apartment as the streets come alive with the oncoming night and she takes him up to the fifth floor patio that overlooks D.C. in one of the most breathtaking views she's ever seen. He's just as captivated as she points out the Capitol, and, very, _very_ tiny in the distance, the White House. It's a humid summer night; crickets chirp a love song into the sweet evening air, fireflies gleam and glow a majestic Morse code into the darkness and, sitting here with Toby, arms around one another, Spencer feels mostly at peace. Mostly.

"I wish you could visit more often," She admits quietly and then adds, "I wish _I_ could visit more often. I wish our schedules were more lenient."

"Yeah. I do wish that we weren't both so busy all the time. I feel like I hardly get to see you."

"I wish I could see the girls, too," Spencer sighs. "I mean, I have other friends, obviously, but the girls are more than friends and they always have been. They're blood; they're my sisters. We've been through so much and… I don't know. I'm just whining."

"You're not. It's okay to miss them." Toby says. "When was the last time all four of you were together?"

"Last year. Thanksgiving break." Spencer recalls. "But Alison was there, too. The last time it was just the four of us… I can't even remember."

"I'm sorry. You all have such different lives now," Toby frowns. "It's hard to get them to sync up."

Spencer nods her agreement. "Have you seen or heard from any of them?"

"Caleb and I met up for drinks last week while he was in town," Toby confirms. "You didn't hear this from me but I'm pretty sure he's going to propose to Hanna."

Spencer gasps. "No way. Oh my god, why didn't I see this coming?"

"I did, from a mile away," Toby smirks. "Of all of us who left Rosewood, I always expected they'd be the first to tie the knot. I don't know why. I just had a gut feeling."

"Your gut feelings are always spot on," Spencer chuckles. "Someday, you're going to teach me your ways."

"I'll see what I can do," He agrees. "Oh, I was also talking to Emily last night, you know, telling her I was coming to see you because we still talk pretty regularly, and she told me to tell you that the board shorts are back on again and that you'd know what that meant. And I'm honestly hoping you do because that makes no sense to me."

"Oh no," Spencer frowns. "Seriously? _Again?_ "

"You two speak in code, now? Is that necessary?"

"It's Aria. And Ezra. _Again_." Spencer sighs. "I really thought she was done the last time he strung her along."

"Didn't you guys talk about holding an intervention for her?" Toby asks, a smile toying at his lips, and she wonders if he's joking, because they had been totally serious about it.

"Yeah, and I'm thinking she's going to need it sooner rather than later," Spencer replies. "Ugh. I miss my friends. I love school and I love D.C. and I'm glad I moved down here, but I miss my friends. My life isn't the same without them."

"So pick a day in that ridiculously detailed planner of yours," Toby suggests. "And go see them."

Spencer shakes her head. "It's not that simple."

"Actually, it is," Toby disagrees. "You pick a day, make sure that none of you make any plans for that day, and then you see your friends. It may not be anything in the near future because all four of you are super busy, but at least it'll give you something to look forward to."

"Yeah," Spencer says and then when the solution, as simple as it is, hits her, she adds with a bit more conviction, "Yeah. Actually, that's exactly what we need to do. God, why are you so good at solving all of my problems?"

Toby laughs. "Part of my job description."

"I miss my friends. But I miss you, too," Spencer tells him, her head coming to rest upon his shoulder as his lips connect with her forehead. "My life isn't the same without you, either."

 **13- heatwave**

For some reason, and she can't exactly place a finger on it other than it's one of _those_ days, Spencer is downright miserable.

She trudges from class to class, drags her feet, sits restlessly through her lectures. She visits one of her professors during his office hours for clarification on an assignment and he responds condescendingly, making her feel like a child being scolded by a disappointed parent. It's one of those days where everything, every tiny detail, pisses her off, from the sun beating down on her cranium, to the construction they're doing on the quad that makes her walk ten minutes longer than usual, to the fact that her last class of the day is canceled and the professor hadn't bothered to email them to let them know; she'd merely hung a Post-It note on the classroom door. Spencer then meets with her study group to ready themselves for their great class debate and instead, she ends up getting into it with one of the guys who hadn't prepared at all. This, in turn, makes her late for work and her boss is _not_ pleased and when she finally gets home from her hellish day, she finds one of her roommates sitting in her underwear in front of the open refrigerator, soaking up the last of the cool air because the entire apartment building has lost power and she's desperate.

It has been, without a doubt, a day from hell and this heat? This heat is _not_ helping.

Spencer's ready to bite someone's head off, but she's too exhausted and much too hot and instead, she heads to her bedroom without a word, closing the door behind her and turning off all the lights. She peels off her clothes, too, and lies upon the cool sheets of her bed, picking sweaty locks of hair off of her face and neck and seriously considering reaching for the scissors on her desk and just chopping her hair clean off. She can feel the beads of sweat rolling down her back, in the crevice of her chest, basically _everywhere_ that has glands and not for the first time this week, she wonders how in hell it could possibly be this hot in October. Miserable, actually, doesn't even begin to describe how she's feeling right about now. In fact, she'd sit here and gladly try to think of another, more superior word, but she's too fucking _hot_.

A few moments later, her cell phone rings and she swears under her breath because she doesn't want to expel any more hot air by talking. In fact, she's just about ready to rip this person a new one and she can feel all the anger, all the frustration, all the fury from the day pour out of her the second she answers the call. " _What?_ "

"Jesus. Hello to you, too. Are you okay?"

And then the anger is gone, because it's Toby and Toby hasn't done anything except continue to be his perfect, wonderful self. Instead of fury lacing her tone, the misery returns, and she replies, much quieter, "No."

"What's wrong, babe? Did you have a bad day?"

Suddenly, she's crying and she doesn't know where the tears have come from but she's pretty sure she's not going to be able to stop them. She doesn't respond for a moment, or really, she _can't_ ; he asks if she's okay a second time and that's when she lets out a sob and can hear the concern, thick and worried, in his voice. "Oh, Spence. Please don't cry. Tell me what happened."

"Nothing. Literally nothing happened; I'm just being a baby," She says and despite her best efforts to control herself, she continues to cry. And now she's sweaty _and_ crying and her nose is running and she's suddenly very glad he cannot see her right now. "It's just a lot of things and I'm… I'm just cranky."

"About what?"

"I guess everything," She sighs heavily. "My group project is due soon and everyone's a moron and I'm the only one doing any work. And my professor's an asshole who couldn't just give me a straight answer on which citations to use for my paper. And my _other_ professor's a scatterbrained hot mess express who couldn't possibly let people know ahead of time that class was canceled so we didn't have to walk all the way across campus in this scorching heat. And my boss is a sexist pig and I'm really reconsidering how badly I want this internship on my résumé."

"Okay, that's a lot to deal with in one day," Toby says. "That would make anyone cranky."

"The entire building lost power; some kind of blackout due to the heat." Spencer continues and for a moment, she wonders if she could drown in her misery. "My roommate's wasting the only food we have because she's hot. And I'm just… I'm so tired and I'm _so_ hot and I'm stressed and… And now I'm crying! Because apparently I can't hold my shit together anymore."

"No, it's okay, let it out. You need to vent, clearly."

"And I miss you," Spencer concludes dolefully. "I thought about how much I missed you all day and that didn't help matters. I haven't seen you in months and I miss you so much it hurts."

Confessing this over the phone has always been so much easier than face to face; she feels much less vulnerable when there's a barrier between them. He heaves a sigh and his voice sounds just as glum. "I miss you, too. Like crazy. I'm going out of my mind."

She can't help herself; she ends up choking out another sob, furiously swiping at her cheeks as tears continue to fall, and she feels so pathetic, she can hardly bear it. Toby pleads, "Don't cry, Spencer. I hate it when you cry. And I can't do anything about it from up here."

"Ship's already sailed on that one," She tells him and sniffles, attempting to pull herself together. "I'm sorry. It's the heat. I'm usually not such a train wreck."

"You're not. It's okay, really." Toby replies. "This whole thing sucks and I'm sorry you had a horrible day. I wish there was something I could do."

"No, you've already done enough," Spencer assures him. "And it's almost our anniversary, right? We'll see each other in a couple weeks."

"Yeah," He agrees but still sounds a bit wary. "Maybe… If I can move some shifts around, I might be able to come down there this weekend."

Despite the way her heart lifts at the possibility, Spencer says, "Don't go out of your way because I'm bawling my eyes out over here. It's okay if you can't; I don't want you to feel like you have to."

"No, I think…" But he trails off and whatever hope she'd had to see him sooner is squashed. "I don't know if I can make it work."

"Really, it's okay," Spencer assures him. "I'm fine. It was a moment of weakness, but I'll be fine."

"Moment of weakness," Toby repeats. "The heat, right?"

"Yeah," Spencer nods and closes her eyes. Now it almost feels like he's right there beside her. "Blame it on this fucking heat."

The next day goes just about as well as the previous one had. Spencer's operating at half steam, ready to burst with emotion at the edges, and when she climbs the stairs to her apartment, she's sure she'll die from hyperthermia. But there's a familiar figure leaning against her doorframe, looking just as exhausted as she is and hot as _hell_ (both in temperature and appearance, if she does say so herself). He's holding a large bag of water, condensation dripping onto the floor, and her eyes are wide at the sight of him; she's unable to speak. He gestures towards the bag and says, "I brought you some ice, but you were _not_ kidding about this heat."

Spencer throws her arms around him and the tears flow freely once more. They're a bit happier, this time.

 **14- 99,999**

"We're almost there."

"I know. We're _so_ close."

"I can't believe I've had this thing this long."

"I can't believe it _still_ runs."

"Hey, it may be a relic but it's a reliable relic."

"You know, the closer we get to D.C., the less I want to be back." Spencer admits from the passenger seat of that old tan Chevy truck. "It's been such a great weekend. And I didn't get enough of you."

Toby agrees, "It was a great weekend; best anniversary yet."

Spencer smirks. "You say that every year."

"Because they keep getting better!" He defends himself and then adds, "But hey, Christmas is just around the corner and then you'll be home again."

"Yeah, I guess so," Spencer sighs and then sits a little straighter, leaning in to view the dashboard. "We've got to be close, now. It can't be more than a couple of feet."

"I know. I can't believe this thing is going to reach 100k." Toby says, waiting for the numbers to change right before his eyes.

Spencer glances at him and then at the heavy highway traffic and suggests, "Maybe keep your eyes on the road, though, because I'm not about getting into yet another car accident in this truck."

"Hey, you were never with me and it was only two accidents. Wait, three?" Toby suddenly questions and then shakes his head. "I can't remember now. The last time, I hit my head pretty hard and it must've jogged my memory."

"Oh my god."

"It was a joke," Toby chuckles. "Wait, look!"

They both watch as the odometer changes and all of the nines are replaced with five zeros. Spencer cheers, "Hey! We made it!"

"Yeah! My baby turned a hundred thousand!" Toby replies giddily and reaches for her hand, squeezing gently. "Thank you for being here to celebrate with me."

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't have missed this for the world," Spencer says and taps the door fondly. "Wow. 100k. How many miles were on this truck when I bought it?"

"A _lot_ ," Toby says. "But I put just as many on driving all across Pennsylvania for jobs back in the day and now, driving to and from D.C."

She smirks. "Sorry."

"Please," Toby waves it off. "I love this truck. It's probably my most prized possession. It just means the world to me."

Spencer grins. "I know it does."

"Actually," Toby says as traffic slows and the city comes into view. They're bumper to bumper, now, which gives him the right amount of time to reach behind his seat for his bag. He produces a small wrapped gift and presents it to her, saying sheepishly, "I kind of… Well, it's a big deal, you know? Reaching 100k, I mean. And I got you a little something to commemorate it."

"You did?" Spencer's entire visage softens as she accepts it and then, just as quickly, she begins to laugh. "Oh my god."

"What? What's so funny?" Toby asks, almost defensively, and she's quick to shake her head.

"Nothing, it's just…" She simply cannot contain her laughter. "Everyone's always like, _you and Toby are so great together because you're so different, opposites attract_ , blah, blah, blah. But I don't think they realize how similar we _actually_ are."

Toby smiles. "What do you mean?"

She fishes through her purse for a moment before finding the object of her conquests- a present, roughly the same size as his. "I got you a hundred-thousand-mile gift also."

At this, Toby laughs, too, and says, "Great minds think alike, I guess."

 **15- separated**

Spencer turns twenty-one in April of her junior year, just as classes are starting to pick up following spring break. Toby's away in Harrisburg at a police seminar, most likely his last since he's due to resign in the summer, and cannot celebrate with her much to his disappointment; hers too, of course, but at least one of her birthday wishes is coming true- the girls, all four of them, are coming down to party with the newest legal member of their little group. She's the third one to reach this milestone following Emily and Hanna, in that order, and even though the others aren't technically twenty-one yet, when everyone arrives Spencer takes them to her favorite little bar just past her apartment and close to campus, because it's a college bar that doesn't card, anyway.

"I brought you an Irish chocolate cake with Bailey's frosting," Emily tells her, producing a box from her tote bag and popping the top. "Because even your birthday cake has to have booze in it, somewhere."

"Thanks," Spencer chuckles. "You guys think of everything."

"So what are you going to order for your first legal drink?" Hanna asks, perusing the menu. "I like the looks of this fishbowl."

"That glass is the size of a small bathtub," Aria comments. "Hanna, you'd be pissing yourself before you even got to the bottom."

"Alright, frequent bathroom breaks," She grins. "Just don't get something you've had before. It's time to branch out."

"Yeah, Spence," Emily teases. "No more tequila shots or glasses of merlot."

"Pinot grigio, thank you very much," Spencer corrects her. "Should I get a cocktail? Or maybe one of these specialty drinks."

"Oh, you should get this," Alison says, pointing to the very last drink on the back page of the menu. "The Hurricane. Sounds right up your alley."

"Why?" Spencer asks, bemused. "Because I'm a hurricane?"

Alison shrugs. "You've been called worse things."

"Vodka, gin, rum, sweet and sour, blue curaçao and Sprite topped off with a 151 rum floater," Spencer reads and comments, "I do not know what that is, but that is a _shit ton_ of alcohol."

"What the hell. I'll get one too," Hanna decides and Emily nods.

"Hurricanes all around!"

They're seated in a booth in the back. A waiter takes their order a moment later and, as predicted, doesn't bother carding them. Spencer frowns the tiniest bit and upon seeing this, Alison reaches for the twenty-something, bored out of his mind waiter and says, "Hey. It's my friend's twenty-first birthday and this is _kind_ of a big deal, so could you please card her? She's been looking forward to proving you all wrong all year."

The waiter glances from Alison to Spencer and back again before grumbling out, "I.D.?"

Spencer hands it to him, watches as he glances briefly at her birthdate and then nods and Alison nods satisfactorily. In moments, they each have tall, ice blue drinks that they all lift in a toast. "Happy birthday, Spencer!"

She takes a break from gossip and alcohol about an hour later, excusing herself to use the restroom. Just the tiniest bit tipsy- okay, maybe she's _very_ tipsy- Spencer locks herself in a bathroom stall and finds that she has a text and a missed call from her boyfriend, and she's dialing his number before she can think twice. He picks up on the second ring and because she's one hundred percent classy, she opens with, "Fair warning- I'm a little drunk right now."

He chuckles and says, "Well, you're legal now so that makes it okay."

She grins and says, "I wish you were here."

"I wish I was, too," Toby agrees. "How are the girls? Are you having fun?"

"Yeah, we're having a great time. Everyone's good; I'm in the bathroom," Spencer replies. "I should probably get back before they think I've fallen in."

"Well, go ahead. I don't want to keep you." He says. "I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday and make sure you got my present."

"I did and I'm obsessed with it already," Spencer replies. "Thank you so much. And the flowers are gorgeous, too. Both of my roommates are totally jealous of me."

"I aim to please."

Spencer grins and professes, "I love you so much."

"I love you, too, Spence," Toby replies and though his voice is far away, the sentiment couldn't be closer to her heart. "Happy birthday."

 **16- reason for existing**

Hanna and Caleb get engaged a few weeks after Spencer's birthday and everyone goes to New York to celebrate with them on a day Spencer will never forget- April 30th.

She's late.

She doesn't drink a single drop of the champagne Hanna offers and she hugs and congratulates her best friend, but she feels like her smile, her excitement, doesn't reach her eyes. Toby eyes her cautiously the entire night and she knows she's being so, so quiet but she can't quite think of anything else to say. How can she possibly be happy, how can she possibly think of her friend's fortune when it's very likely that life as she knows it is over? She's shaking in the cab ride back to the hotel and Toby keeps shooting her sidelong glances the whole ride and she can tell he wants to ask, but is afraid to push her over the edge. And she knows the feeling, because she'd like to tell him her fears but she's afraid to speak the words aloud. This cannot seriously be happening to them right now. She's always been so in tune with her body, she's always charted her cycle and it had come monthly exactly when she'd expected it would, like clockwork, and now… Now, they're stopping at a pharmacy across the street from their hotel and she's uttered the two words in shame and in sorrow and Toby's entire face has gone stark white. This was _so_ not in the plan.

The test is on the bathroom counter, but they're both sitting on the bed, unable to look at it and watch their future unfold before them. Neither of them has spoken a single word. Spencer's staring at far wall, ignoring the timer on her phone as it ticks down seconds until the results come in, and wondering how they've come to this. Toby, on the other hand, can't stop jittering. He folds and refolds the sheets on the bed, zips and unzips his suitcase on the floor beside them, adjusts the thermostat, toys with the curtains. Spencer wants to grab him and simply _hold him still_ , but she's much too frightened; she might have just ruined both of their lives. Luckily for her, Toby doesn't ask if she wants to talk about it and she's sure it's because he knows she doesn't. Unluckily for her, he seems to want to, for he finally settles beside her, clearing his throat to tell her, "Whatever happens, whatever the results are… We're going to get through this."

And it occurs to her, now, that a second ago, she hadn't known that. Sure, they've been through worse before, they've been through hell and back, but for some reason, she's been picturing them with a screaming, flailing, insatiable infant, resenting one another until one of them got sick of the torture and left the other behind. Spencer, her voice quiet and raw, replies, "I know."

"This will change everything, but it won't change how I feel about you," Toby continues. "You're still the love of my life. You're still the most important person in the world to me."

There's a lump in her throat the size of a baseball and she can't swallow past it, can't blink back the tears that have welled in her eyes. She merely nods and it appears to be that Toby cannot stop talking. Funny; she'd always thought _she_ talked when she was nervous. "I can move down to the city and we can get an apartment. I can get another job. It'll be really hard at first, but-"

"Toby," Spencer halts him and he finally meets her eyes. She realizes this whole time she's been preparing for what she'd do if the results were negative and Toby was doing the exact opposite. "I don't want this."

He blinks numbly and repeats, "You don't want this."

"No. _No_. Do you?" Spencer asks and before he can answer, she finds the words she could not locate before. "I can't be a mom. I'm a junior in college, I'm barely legal, I… I have finals to take and grad school to think of and interviews for a summer job and my internship that I hate but it's going to look good to future employers, I hope, and… And I can't do any of that with a baby."

"But…" He trails off, trying to find the best way to ask what she's dreading to hear. "But what if it's positive?"

"Well…" Spencer sighs and shakes her head. "Then we'll have to figure something out together. But I meant what I said. I don't want this. And I don't want you to have to uproot your life for me. You're switching jobs; you're going to make a name for yourself… I want you to be able to still have that. I want you to be happy and you wouldn't be, not if we did this."

She can see the struggle on his face and still doesn't quite understand what about this he isn't grasping. "I guess I just thought-"

The timer rings out into the emotion-filled room and Spencer nearly jumps out of her skin. Sharing a glance with her boyfriend, Toby nods in encouragement and together they make their way towards the bathroom. Spencer pushes the door open and before she can even give the bathroom counter a second glance, she reaches for Toby's hand. He squeezes back _hard_ and she's holding her breath as they take two tentative steps closer. She'd bought a digital one because she's not fucking around and when they both lean in to learn their results, the small tube reads, _Not pregnant_. Her whole body sags with relief and Toby lets out a sigh and she turns to collect him in an embrace as he holds her with just as much gusto. Perhaps it's stress. Perhaps it's exhaustion. But it isn't a _baby_ and that's all that matters to her right now.

"Thank God," Spencer breathes into Toby's neck, kissing him over and over again. "Oh, thank God."

He lifts her into his arms and kisses her full on the mouth. Spencer's glad, because for a moment there she'd actually wondered if he'd been ready to become a father when so much of their lives was still uncertain. However, he's still quiet a moment later when they're relaxing on the bed again, still surfing the aftershocks of the trying evening, and Spencer asks, "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. I'm really glad you're not pregnant." Toby replies. "We're not ready for that."

"No, we're not." Spencer answers definitively. "But that's not it. What's wrong?"

"It's nothing. Really." He assures her and she frowns. "It's just that… I thought that we were on the same page with what we wanted from each other and for our future together and I'm not sure that we are, anymore."

Her heart begins to race and she asks, "What do you mean?"

Toby says, "You don't want children."

"What? I didn't say that." Spencer returns but then silences, because she had, in fact, just mere minutes ago. _I don't want this. I can't be a mom_. And it's now that she finally understands Toby's previous struggle. He'd completely misunderstood her fear and anxiety and Spencer feels so incredibly guilty, now. Most likely, Toby's thinking she doesn't see or even want a future with him, when in reality, it's all she's been craving for years.

"I didn't mean it like that," Spencer says, now, trying desperately to get him to see her true feelings. She cups his cheek with one hand, the other still firmly grasped in his own, and he meets her eyes. "I don't want this _right now_. I can't be a mom _yet_. It's what I should've said. It's what I meant."

"No, I know. I'm being stupid. I should've realized that." Toby shakes his head and takes the hand on his face, too, kissing each of her knuckles. "It's just that… I never thought I'd ever get here, you know? I never thought I'd ever find someone like you and when I did, I started envisioning travel and marriage and babies and all of that. And all of that would happen eventually, when we were ready, but then this whole thing happened and threw me off course and then you said you didn't want it and I guess I just panicked. I'm sorry I reacted like that. I should've realized it was a timing thing and not a desire thing."

"Toby," Spencer inhales a deep breath. "You are the most incredible person I know. And you are going to make an amazing father, someday. I'm not ready for that yet. But _eventually_ , I want to settle down and have a ton of babies with you."

Toby grins. "A ton?"

"Okay, maybe like two or three," Spencer amends her statement and he chuckles, pulling her in for a kiss.

 **17- underground**

She's a bundle of stress during finals week and stress always brings the nightmares back.

In this one, she's lying on the floor in an orange jumpsuit, a pool of blood beside her. At the opposite end of this bedroom that certainly isn't hers is the rocking chair that resembles the one Toby's handcrafted, pitching back and forth creakily though no one sits upon it. There is no light streaming through her open window because they're underground and yet, someone is watching her- always. She scrambles backwards, hits her head against the concrete wall, and her vision explodes with stars. Her mouth is as dry as the Sahara and she begs silently for a drop of water. Instead, the slot in the door opens and a switchboard is dropped into her room just as that familiar tinny voice comes over the intercom: _Choose one or all will suffer_. The pain in her head is so great she cannot see straight and she struggles at the pictures of her best friends and refuses to choose one to hurt today. _Ten, nine, eight_ , the timer ticks out, beeping incessantly and she wishes she could just quiet the noise and she's so, so tired but it goes on and on, _seven, six, five,_ and she glances at Aria, who's fierce as can be but cannot fight an electric current, _four, three, two_ , and Emily's so strong but not strong enough for this and Hanna has always proven herself time and time again but how could she choose and then _one_ and there are three identical, piercing screams and Spencer covers her ears, eyes scrunched up in agony, but she cannot block it out and she just wishes it all would _stop._

And then it does. She bolts upright in bed, the sheets tangled at her feet, sweat pouring out of every orifice, her chest heaving, tears flowing. She's in her apartment. It's three a.m. It's been nearly four years.

Shakily, Spencer pushes the tousled covers away from her body and steps out of bed, opening her bedroom door and peering out warily into the wee hours of the morning. Not a single stir emanates from either of her roommates' bedrooms and she lets out a small sigh of relief. They do not know the extent of her psychological trauma and they're so fun and carefree and full of life that Spencer would like to keep it that way. Instead, she steps into the bathroom, splashes cool water over her face and inhales deep, long breaths in an attempt to calm herself down. But the night heightens her fear, it always has, and she's wide-awake, unable to chase the troubling premonitions away from her mind. Instead, she crawls back in bed and with trembling fingers, dials Toby's number. She needs to hear his voice before her mind traps her in her darkest memories forever.

He yawns when she answers and she feels just as guilty as she always does for waking him with her silly little problems. "Spencer? You alright?"

"Tell me again," She pleads and she knows he's awake, now. Calling with such a request can only mean one thing. "Please, just say it once more."

"You're safe." Toby says and there's a conviction to his voice that cannot be measured. "You're free. We got you out of that underground bunker and then it was destroyed. –A's gone; she's been locked up for years and she can't hurt you. And you're safe."

Oddly, it's Alison's words that come back to her in a moment like this. _I know what you see in Toby, Spencer. When he tells you the truth, you believe him._ Exhaling, Spencer says gratefully, "Thanks."

"Are you okay?"

"Relatively," Spencer replies. "I'm sorry to wake you. I know it's the third time this week."

"Don't worry about it. What was it this time?"

"The same," She sighs. "I always have that one when I don't sleep well and I never sleep well when I'm stressed, which I am over these finals. It's a cycle, really."

"Stressed? _You_?" Toby teases. "You sound like you could use a vacation."

Spencer smirks. "I could use a hug."

"Soon," Toby laments. "A week, right? You're almost done. We're almost there."

"I miss you."

"I know. I miss you too."

She allows the sentiment to linger between them a moment before bidding him farewell. "Alright, I'll let you get some sleep."

"Thanks. You too, please."

"I'll try," Spencer replies, lying down and wishing, not for the first time, that he were beside her. "See you soon?"

"Yes." Toby affirms. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Spencer replies and then he's gone. She sets her phone back on her bedside table and hopes this will be enough to satiate her subconscious.

 **18- the next best thing**

"This is total bullshit."

Toby can't help the wry grin from forming on his face. They've spent everyday of her summer break together in some respect and every single day has been amazing. Today, a humid one in late July, is no exception. "Is it total bullshit? Two seconds ago you were preaching about how accurate this quiz was and how it came from J.K. Rowling _herself_ and how there is no other sorting quiz that could ever place you at Hogwarts and be considered accurate except for this one."

"That was before this stupid quiz put me in fucking _Slytherin_ ," Spencer shakes her head, shoving the laptop away from her. "There must've been a mistake. Maybe it malfunctioned or something."

"Yeah." Toby says bemusedly. "Maybe."

She eyes him. "What?"

"I didn't say anything."

"You thought it," Spencer accuses him. "Do _you_ think I'm a Slytherin?"

"Spencer, I don't know. You were the Potter nerd, not me," Toby says. "I'm just saying that you would be the first one to tell me that not all Slytherins are dark lords and death eaters."

"Well, true." Spencer considers this. "But… I don't know. I always had it in my mind that I'd be a Ravenclaw. I mean, come on. _Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure_. That was my middle school yearbook quote."

"Of course it was," Toby chuckles. "But I guess you are more than just your brain, Spencer. That's a good thing, isn't it?"

"Easy for you to say," Spencer sighs. "You're such a Hufflepuff."

"Yeah and the quiz told me so, too," Toby says. "So doesn't that make it accurate?"

"I guess so," She shrugs. "I just… You read these books as a kid and everyone wants to be a Gryffindor like Harry. Everyone does. But then the books go on and on and you get a bit older and you start to realize you identify with a different house because of the traits they value. That was Ravenclaw for me. I never identified with Slytherin. I feel like my childhood was a lie."

Toby smirks. "It wasn't a lie. Maybe you have a mix of both houses in you and you just lean a bit towards Slytherin."

"Maybe."

"What's so bad about it, anyway? _Slytherin house values ambition, cunning and resourcefulness_ ," Toby reads, pulling the laptop a bit closer. " _Famous Slytherins include Merlin, Tom Riddle and Dolores Umbridge_. Okay, unfortunate choices to advertise, but Merlin? Come on, that's cool."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"And that sounds like you to me. Ambition? You're the hardest-working person with the strongest work ethic and determination I've ever seen." Toby lists. "Resourcefulness? _So_ you. I am still convinced that there isn't anything you can't do or don't know. And cunning? Do I even have to say it?"

She chuckles. "Okay, yeah, that sounds like me."

"Plus, you look amazing in green," Toby tells her. "Or, really, anything. And nothing."

She rolls her eyes but kisses him anyway and ends it much too quickly for his liking to remark, "You know, I bet a Hufflepuff and a Slytherin would make an amazing couple."

"Considering we are living proof of that," Toby grins. "I'd have to say that is an excellent theory."

 **19- numerical**

It is roughly two hundred miles from Rosewood to Washington D.C. and she knows this very well considering she's made the journey more times than she can count in these last three, soon to be four, years. It takes a little under two hours for a train to make the journey and a bit over three by car once you've factored in the traffic that inevitably hits the closer you get to the nation's capital. Spencer's senior year of college- these four years flew the _hell_ by- begins in just a week and she's not ready at all. She boxes up her things again, packs lazily, and dreads, as she always does, leaving her boyfriend behind. She'd thought- hoped, really- that now that he's resigned from the police department that maybe he'd be able to follow her to the city, but he's been so busy with numerous jobs and people who want his expertise that she just couldn't bear to ask him for the millionth time. Instead, he spends her last night in Rosewood with her and they vow to visit more frequently, call and FaceTime more often, not let the distance consume and overwhelm them like it has.

She has a feeling, even with their promises to one another, it still will.

There are two hundred and sixty days until graduation and Spencer's already feeling the anxiety from not yet having a plan. She takes the GRE in less than thirty days and, if she's unsatisfied, hopefully again thirty days after that. Her applications to the four grad schools she's applying to- NYU, Princeton, Stanford and Penn State- are due by January first and she's pretty sure she'll get into at least one of them, but the stress over waiting to find out will most likely kill her, anyway. Not to mention the numerous exams and papers she'll have to focus on while also trying to make the most out of her final year here in D.C. She loves Georgetown and has completely enjoyed her time here, but she's also ready to leave. It's not a city she could see herself living in full time and wherever her travels and career may take her in the future, she'll be sure to visit just to reminisce.

But most of all, what she'll love most about this city is leaving it in two hundred and sixty days. It had been a great place to flock to after Rosewood, a source of adventure, but it had been an adventure she'd taken mostly alone. And there's a blue-eyed boy back home with whom she'd love to have the next adventure, wherever it may take them.

Wherever she ends up following graduation, she's taking him with her and she's never looking back.

 **20- between heaven and earth**

He dreams of swaying palm trees, dusty golden sand and shimmering waves hugging the shore.

Palm trees sway across the great blue sky, not a cloud to put a damper on their day. The sun's rays splay across the perfect island scene and seagulls cry in the distance. As Toby glances around, he notes they're the sole occupants of the abandoned beach, swinging in a hammock between two palm trees, and the salty sea air combined with the motion of the hammock and the comfort of one another's embrace has lulled his girlfriend to sleep. He leans back, pulling sunglasses over his eyes and holding her just a bit tighter and she squirms a bit in her sleep, mumbling something about mojitos. It makes him grin and, from nowhere, a waiter in island garb brings them two. Gently, he rouses Spencer and she rolls off the top of him, stretching and yawning just a bit and then grinning delightedly at the drink he presents her with. They toast their beautiful vacation, sip their identical drinks and then kiss in the salty sunshine. She tastes of coconut and limes, of sunscreen and salt, of love and adventure. And he's content.

That is, until he awakens, and realizes it's actually forty degrees outside, pouring rain, and he's alone in his bed.

Frowning, Toby rubs the sleep from his eyes and glances at the clock at his bedside, blaring with a piercing alarm. Silencing it in mild fury, he sits, stretches and steps out of bed to ready himself for the long day ahead. Part of him can still feel the warm sun on his face, feel the sea breeze, smell the alcohol stemming from the mojitos, and before he can stop himself, he's sending a quick text to his girlfriend asking, _Good morning, Spence. Had a dream we were on an island drinking cocktails. When are we making that a reality?_

It's maybe a minute, maybe two, before she answers. _Um, yesterday! Sign me up!_

He chuckles, replying, _I've been working twelve hour days and I know you've been running yourself ragged studying for your GRE. We both need a vacation._

 _Tell me about it. Hey, it's our fifth anniversary next month. That's a big deal! Let's celebrate!_

 _Says the girl who won't even skip one class._

 _Okay, but senioritis, right? That's a thing._

 _Not a practice you subscribe to._

 _Ugh you know me too well_.

Toby chuckles and then sends back, _Counteroffer- we skip Christmas in Rosewood this year and celebrate it in the Bahamas or something as a late anniversary gift to ourselves._

It's not a second later that he gets two thumbs up emojis and a heart, along with a message saying simply, _Deal._

 **21- sonata**

The moment the opening chords to the familiar song resonate throughout the room, Toby frowns the tiniest bit. He knows _exactly_ what this means.

"Toby!" Spencer exclaims excitedly. "It's our song! Come on. Dance with me."

The familiar pang of dread courses through his veins but he obliges, standing from the nice, cozy spot he'd made for himself in the corner of the room and following her onto the dance floor. Spencer had quickly risen to power in the philanthropy group she'd joined earlier in the year and they were holding a benefit for a local charity Toby hadn't ever heard of. But when she'd invited him to attend, he'd agreed despite the fact that he tended to avoid large social gatherings if he could help it. He'd made a donation and she'd thanked him endlessly for it, insisting he hadn't needed to and that he's the best person she knows and then he hadn't seen her for awhile, because she is more or less singlehandedly running this thing and is incredibly busy. He'd been fine to just sit back and observe; it's a great networking opportunity for her, he knows. But she'd apologized every time she'd hurried past and no matter how many times he assured her he was fine, she'd promised she'd make it up to him.

Dancing's great and all, but he can think of other ways.

"I'm sorry I've been all over the place tonight," Spencer laments. "I was so excited to spend time with you and now I barely get to."

"It's alright. You've got a lot going on." Toby shrugs. "I've been watching Drunk and Drunker over there. It's been quite amusing."

"Ugh," Spencer scoffs as she glances at a few of her classmates. "This a fundraiser _not_ a frat party. I would've appreciated it if they'd maybe kept their shit together for once."

"Well, regardless, this night's been pretty successful." Toby says. "You should be proud of yourself for pulling all of this together. I'm proud of you."

Shyly, she grins and pecks him on the lips. "Thank you."

They sway a bit further and she must sense he's a bit uncomfortable, for she loops her arms a bit tighter around his neck and assures him, "You're getting really good at this."

"I thought we promised we'd never lie to each other?" Toby jokes and Spencer purses her lips. "It's okay. I know you're the coordinated one in the relationship. I'm good at other things."

"You are, but you're not bad at this," Spencer chuckles. "And you know, it's good practice for the wedding."

Toby glances up, alarmed, and his grasp on her waist tightens just a bit. "The wedding?"

"Yeah. Hanna and Caleb? You're my plus-one," Spencer says as if he's clueless and perhaps he is. At the mention of a wedding, he'd been picturing her in the gown and veil and not her blonde best friend. "Come on, Toby, you must've gotten the save-the-date too."

"Oh. Yeah. Right, Hanna and Caleb," He shakes his head. "I'd already forgotten."

Teasingly, Spencer says, "Some friend you are."

"Yeah, well, I guess my mind was just a bit occupied," Toby replies and she chuckles.

"By what?"

"Trying to focus on not stepping on you," Toby says and she grins. "How proud of you I am for accomplishing so much. How gorgeous you look tonight."

Spencer beams and threads her fingers through his hair, pulling his mouth to hers. The music plays on, but somehow, all Toby hears now are wedding bells and he can't quite seem to stop picturing Spencer as his beautiful, blushing bride.

He keeps this thought all to himself and pulls her in for another kiss.

 **22- fine lines**

They have a particularly nasty fight just after her spring semester starts and for a week afterwards, she communicates with him through shortened texts and makes excuses each time he wants to call her for why she can't talk to him.

Toby still has some residual anger from the argument, but mostly, he misses her and he can't quite seem to understand what it is that is keeping her from reaching out to him. He knows they'd both gone too far with what they said to one another and he wants to apologize; really, he does. But perhaps he'd crossed a line; perhaps he'd hurt her irreparably and this isn't about anger, anymore. Perhaps he'd just upset her. This thought alone agonizes him the entire week and by Friday afternoon, he just can't take it anymore. He purchases an impromptu train ticket and is down there before the evening truly hits, arriving at her apartment a little before five o'clock. Following another resident into her building, he climbs the stairs and knocks on the door of her apartment, hoping she'll be there, and his face falls when her roommate answers instead. The girl must not know of their argument, for she grins and welcomes him inside, informs him Spencer's studying in her room. Of course she is. Toby inhales a deep breath and crosses the apartment, knocking twice and deciding to let himself in when he gains no reply.

Spencer's on the bed with a textbook open beside her, a notebook in her lap and a highlighter trapped between her teeth. She has headphones in but the moment her door opens, she glances up, her eyes go wide and she tears the ear buds out of her ears. "Toby? What are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry," He replies in turn. "I'm so, so sorry. I shouldn't have said what I did. I was angry and I know I crossed a line, I know that now, and-"

He's silenced by her lips on his and he doesn't hesitate in kissing her back. When she pulls away there are tears in her eyes and she throws her arms around him in an embrace. "Toby. _I'm_ sorry. I always do this and… I was just as pissed as you were and I didn't mean to take it out on you. I love you and I missed you and I'm glad you're here."

"We have to be better at not letting the stupid little things get to us," Toby says and holds her even tighter. "I love you too much to fight over the stupid shit we currently fight about."

"Me too," Spencer agrees and pulls away, smoothing the hair she'd ruffled in their embrace. "How's the Kellerman complex?"

"Great. It's practically building itself," Toby replies and suddenly feels like he hasn't spoken to her in twenty years instead of the mere week it actually had been. "How are your classes going? Any word from your schools yet?"

"They're fine," Spencer turns away, suddenly very interested in the dust on her nightstand. "I, um… I heard from Stanford."

"You did?" Toby asks, following her motions and sitting upon the bed. "When? Why didn't you call me?"

"Yesterday," She replies and then he knows why- because of this stupid, repetitive fight that had created a barrier between them.

"And?"

"I got in," She wrings her hands, eyes in her lap and Toby beams.

"I knew you would! Congratulations!" Toby cheers and Spencer smiles but the mirth doesn't reach her eyes. "Why aren't you more excited?"

"It's on the other side of the country," She shrugs. "It's alright. I'm waiting to hear back from Princeton and NYU, still, and I'd rather go to one of those schools anyway."

"Yeah, but… _California_ , Spence," Toby encourages. "What's wrong with being on the other side of the country?"

She shoots him a look. "Gee, I wonder."

"Hey, don't let me hold you back. If this is what you want, please do it," Toby insists. "I'm not about to stop you from chasing your dreams."

"Well if I do, will you _please_ come with me?" Spencer asks and he falters the tiniest bit. "Because I can't even bear the thought of being a whole country away from you. The last thing we need is to have to incorporate the time difference into our already complicated call and FaceTime schedule. I would only be able to come home on holidays, really, and you'd probably never be able to visit, because your boss wouldn't like you taking so much time off and weekend trips would be nearly impossible. Not to mention I would miss you so much I wouldn't be able to focus on my schoolwork. I would go out of my mind."

"All of those are extremely valid points," Toby tells her. "If Georgetown has taught us anything, it's that long distance _sucks_ and destroys us both."

"That's what I'm saying," Spencer nods her agreement and he can see hope in her eyes. Hope for the future. Hope for _them_. "I don't want to take another step into my future if you're not there beside me."

"Spencer," Toby says, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and bringing her body into his, his lips connecting with her forehead. "I wouldn't dream of being anywhere else."

 **23- addiction**

"It feels like we've been studying for years, doesn't it?" Maggie asks, rubbing her eyes and draining the rest of her coffee. "I'm going to need another one of these if we're pulling an all-nighter."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Spencer replies. "I'm falling asleep just looking at this page and somehow we have to memorize it?"

"At least there's only one exam left until we're done forever," Maggie points out. "Well, done with this class forever. I've got my last exam Wednesday. You?"

"Friday morning," Spencer answers. "Kind of cutting it close, you know? Final grades have to be in that evening for the registrar."

"Yeah, but you're not worried, are you? You're going to pass everything with flying colors." Her friend snorts. "Okay, seriously, all of these words are blurring together. Should I get us more caffeine?"

"Please," Spencer nods and tosses a few bills in her direction. "Get me an extra shot of espresso this time. Otherwise, I am not going to make it."

Maggie nods and heads for the counter as Spencer highlights a particularly important passage in her notes, realizing she and her friend are the only ones left in the coffeehouse inside the student union. It's nearing one a.m., after all. She yawns again, covering her mouth as her eyes water, and wishes she could curl up and fall asleep right here, right now. She knows, if she abandoned her books and notes, she easily could. Maggie returns with two steaming mugs of coffee and Spencer is quick to thank her and quick to let the caffeine touch her soul. "Alright. That's better. Maybe I'll be able to keep my eyes open now."

"Hey, if you're really struggling, I do have something that could help you with that," Maggie grins, reaching into her purse and producing a small Ziploc bag with four or five tiny capsules inside. "It'll give you a high like no other and trust me, the _last_ thing you'll do is sleep."

Blood rushes to her face. She feels suddenly hot, like someone's pressed an iron to her skin, and she can feel her heart hammering against the confines of her ribcage. Her mouth goes dry and adrenaline races through her veins at the sight of those small white pills. _Come on_ , her inner demons taunt and tease her. _Just like old times. Down the hatch. You know you want to_. She does want to. And oh, it would be _so_ easy to. One or two of those with just a swig of the water bottle she's brought. Instant gratification. Falling down the rabbit hole in order to stay awake again…

"No," Spencer shakes her head and she's not sure if she's talking to her friend or her demons. "No, thank you."

Maggie shrugs, slips two of the capsules into her mouth and tucks the bag away. "Okay. Should we look over chapter seven now?"

The rest of the session is a blur because Spencer can't seem to focus on anything except the Vera Bradley tote resting at Maggie's feet and, more importantly, what she has inside. _Just ask her for one_ , her demons jeer. _She offered you before. You can change your mind. Think of how much studying you could get done if you didn't sleep at all_. Spencer shakes her head and finally, a bit before two a.m., decides she'll get nothing accomplished if she stays here, distracted, eyes glazed over with exhaustion and her inner struggle. Maggie bids her goodnight and doesn't bat an eyelash at the time; in fact, she doesn't seem tired in the slightest. Spencer can guess why. She heads back to her apartment, changes into shorts and an old t-shirt of Toby's she's been sleeping in all week, and climbs into bed, desperate for sleep, for a good night's rest. That exam is at eleven a.m. and she must be awake and alert.

She's not sure if it's the coffee, the anxiety, the sight of the familiar pills or some strange combination of all three, but she doesn't sleep a single second.

She does, however, call Toby first thing in the morning, because she figures he'd want to know about it. Perhaps she'd call her sober coach if she still had one, if he hadn't hit on her and lost his credibility. Toby answers on the first ring and some of her stress melts away at the sound of his voice. "Morning babe. Good luck today. It's your last exam, right? Or second to last?"

"Second," She answers and begins getting ready, catching sight of herself in the mirror and pulling a face at how exhausted she looks. "Thanks for the luck. I'm going to need it."

"I doubt it," Toby disagrees. "Did you get enough sleep?"

"None, actually, and that's why I'm calling," Spencer sighs. "I was studying really late last night with a friend and… Well, I was talking about how exhausted I was and she said the same thing and then she said she had a way of ensuring that we stayed awake to study…"

She trails off, but knows Toby senses where this is going. Her suspicions are confirmed a moment later when he asks, calmly, "Did you take the pills, Spencer?"

"No." She's quick to assure him and knows telling him had been the right choice, for she hears no judgment or disappointment in his voice, just genuine concern. "No, I didn't. Believe me, I wanted to, but I didn't touch them. I actually left so that I wouldn't even be tempted."

"Good. Good for you. I'm proud of you," Toby tells her. "That couldn't have been easy."

"It wasn't," She chuckles and somehow, she feels so much better. Lighter. Airier. "I just wanted to talk to somebody about it. I needed to tell someone before it ate at me all day."

"Thank you for telling me," Toby replies. "Seriously. I can't imagine the amount of strength it took to decline her offer and I can't imagine the amount of courage it took you to make this call. You're making incredible strides, here. I hope you realize that."

Quietly, Spencer nods and says, "Thank you."

"You're amazing, okay?" Toby tells her and for once, she allows herself to accept his compliment. "Now go ace the hell out of that exam."

And she does.

 **24- spastic**

It's an unseasonably warm day in May and the stadium is filled to the brim with overjoyed family members and friends of the graduates. Toby is seated a few rows back from the front because, unsurprisingly, the Hastings' had gotten there hours before the ceremony had even begun. Regardless, he's dressed in his best suit and he's sitting beside Veronica, who keeps saying she can't believe this day has come so fast, and Melissa, who's likening everything to her graduation and asking Toby a thousand and one questions about his plans with her sister once Spencer finally leaves D.C. It's much too hot in here, all of a sudden, and Melissa's fiancé distracts her by pointing out a discrepancy in the program and Toby gets off scot free. He's never quite spoken to any of Spencer's family members this long and, from somewhere in the sea of graduates, she must sense his discomfort, for she sends him a simple text reading, _Hang in there_. He grins, shields the text from her family's eyes, and types back a grateful response.

The convocation comes first, with her specific school reading the list of the couple hundred or so graduates and they cheer the loudest as Spencer crosses the stage. The commencement comes after, with a dozen speakers and the dean telling the graduates they are free to move their tassels from the right to the left; they have just become alumni. It's a controlled chaos of balloons and confetti and the alma mater being sung and then a complete mob scene as they attempt to leave the stadium and find her in the large crowd. She texts them her location and Toby chuckles because of course she's thought of everything. He reaches her first and upon the sight of her in cap and gown, his heart spasms, his breath catches in his throat. He's not sure he's ever been prouder of her in his entire life.

She jogs the short way to him and leaps into his arms, Toby catching her halfway. He's very aware of all the people watching them, including her entire family, but his girlfriend's just graduated college at the top of her class and she deserves to be praised as such. "Congratulations, Spence. I am so ridiculously proud of you."

"Thank you," She breathes and pulls away a bit, poking him in the eye with the mortarboard corner of her cap. "I'm sorry."

He smirks, shakes his head. "Don't worry about it. I've got another one."

Reaching forward, he adjusts the cap on her head and watches as she glances at her family approaching behind him. "Were they awful?"

"No, they're just excited." Toby assures her. "And as proud of you as I am."

"Well, I'm still sorry you had to endure three hours of them." Spencer apologizes. "We'll sneak away after dinner, I promise."

Toby grins. "I'm holding you to that."

She glances at her parents and sister a moment more, clearly at war with herself over whether to go and mingle, accept their hugs and congratulations too, or simply stay here and allow herself a bit longer with her boyfriend. She goes, but not before reaching upwards and pulling his mouth down to hers in a kiss that makes his toes curl and his heart spasm wildly once more.

From this, she gains strength, and together they reach her family, hand in hand.

 **25- quintessential**

Caleb and Hanna's wedding is probably the most over-the-top affair she has ever been a part of.

It looks as though it was ripped from a bridal magazine and, with the exception of one missing bridesmaid Hanna had dismissed the day earlier, everything goes exactly according to plan. Hanna floats down the aisle in a gorgeous designer gown and she seems to be glowing, her hair delicately twisted at the top of her head, her veil cascading down her back. Rose petals mingle from the aisle to the altar, the string quartet croons out a wedding tune and there is not a dry eye in the house once the wedded pair begins their vows. Cheers and thunderous applause erupt throughout the crowd and from there, they retreat to the reception for the largest party Spencer has ever seen. Hanna and Caleb had chosen a theme that brought them back to their roots and so the reception is held in a wooded area lit by fairy lights and campfires, with tents for those who drink too much and need to spend the night and s'mores for a light dessert before the cutting of the cake. Everyone seems to be having a great time and as Spencer watches two of her very best friends have their first dance as husband and wife, she gets a little sappy and nostalgic thinking of how far everyone has come.

"They look really happy, don't they?"

Spencer glances up and smiles as Toby comes to sit beside her, handing her a glass of champagne. They toast the happy couple and take identical sips. "Yeah. They should be. This night was perfect."

"It was," Toby agrees. "Hanna looks amazing."

"Like a model, right?" Spencer replies. "Caleb cried when she walked down the aisle. That was _sweetest_ thing."

"I like how rustic and camping-like this whole setting is," Toby then compliments. "If you didn't know them or how they started out, you'd think it wouldn't fit."

"Yeah, because Hanna doesn't seem the type," Spencer chuckles. "But it works. It's them."

"It is… well. Just a _bit_ much," Toby says and Spencer groans.

"Oh my god, thank you. I thought I was the only one thinking that." She says. "Could've done without the Italian poem, the multiple preachy wedding songs, the doves-"

"Oh, the doves," Toby chuckles. "I already forgot about them."

"It's fine, she's my best friend. It was a beautiful ceremony and the reception's been so fun." Spencer backtracks. "This is definitely the wedding you picture when someone mentions having one. Three hundred guests, Swarovski crystals, one dress for the ceremony and one for the reception, the whole nine."

Toby asks, "But?"

" _But_ ," Spencer adds. "Definitely not the kind of wedding I'd want. I definitely want to go much, much simpler."

Curious, Toby probes a bit further. "How?"

"I don't know. It would be quieter. More intimate," Spencer describes. "Not a lot of people; just close friends and family. A simple gown, you know? Not something that would break the bank. Maybe just one caterer; I don't really understand why Hanna needed three. I do like how Hanna tied in something that meant something to both of them into her reception, though, and I'd like to do that too. I'd want some subtle touches to who we are as a couple and how we got where we are today…"

She trails off at the wistful, complacent look on Toby's face and then finds herself blushing the tiniest bit. Glancing away, she apologizes. "I've thought about this too much, haven't I?"

"No." Toby shakes his head and that smile doesn't wane. "It's good to know. You know, for the future."

Just the thought of this makes her heart skip a beat.

 **26- in the middle**

 _SOS. Pls send help immediately to 422 E 75_ _th_ _St. Might die._

 _Omg. Are you okay? What's going on? CALL ME._

 _Just trying to have coffee with Aria and catch up. Guess who stalked her all the way to the Upper East Side? Now everything is awkward._

 _Wow. So you're not dying. Why would you text me saying that?_

 _I AM dying! From the awkwardness! Please come save me._

 _I'm working! Spencer, you've never had an issue telling Ezra off before. I doubt you'll have one now._

 _Wow. Whose side are you on?_

 _Always yours. Good luck._

"Because you _always_ say that!" Ezra argues, turning to the brunette on his other side. "Spencer, back me up on this."

"I…" She trails off, glancing at her best friend and their former English teacher. "I'm sorry, I wasn't really listening."

 _Help! They've dragged me into this now!_

 _What is he doing in New York anyway?_

 _I have no clue. Probably did it for her. Like he does everything. He's a huge creep._

 _Hey it might be romantic if she felt the same way._

 _But she doesn't, so it's creepy. Plus she's kind of seeing someone right now and- yeah, she just brought that up and now they're FULL-ON fighting. Why haven't you come to rescue me from this yet?_

 _Still working. But this is making for some great entertainment; I'll give you that._

 _You can leave work temporarily for emergencies, can't you?_

 _Actual emergencies, yes. You're not dying, Spencer._

 _I am so uncomfortable._

 _I'm very sorry. Maybe if Ezra makes enough of a ruckus they'll kick you out of the coffee shop and you'll have an excuse to leave._

 _I like the way you think._

"Spencer," Aria debates. "You know how hard this has been! How dangerous! Will you just _tell_ him?"

Spencer blinks once and then twice and glances back at her phone. "I don't want to get in the middle of this."

 _I'm going to need one very large glass of wine when I get home._

 _I'm already planning on stopping at the liquor store on the way home, don't worry._

 _You are amazing and I love you._

 _For dealing with all of that bullshit, Spencer, so are you._

 **27- tip**

It's certainly not a glamorous job, but it pays the bills. Okay, it helps. Kind of.

She refuses to touch her coveted savings account and would rather die before asking her parents for a monetary contribution and so she gets a job waitressing at the Rainforest Café in Times Square. It's degrading, honestly, and whiny tourists bitch her out on the regular, but the tips are incredible and grad school is expensive and the internship she'd fought tooth and nail to get doesn't pay. Plus, it's kind of a cool dining experience; there are animatronic jungle animals that come alive every so often and tickle those same whiny tourists to no end. Her management team is great and most of her coworkers are in the same boat as her; broke college students just trying to make rent. For the most part, she has a pretty sweet set up going on here and she especially likes to work the bar because instead of catering to tiny children, she gets to feel more her age and have actual conversations with adults.

Except on days like today.

She returns to their apartment after a particularly long shift, smelling of fryer oil and just a hint of whiskey. It's late, nearing one a.m., and she's entirely surprised to find Toby, barely awake, on the couch when she pushes the door open. "Hey."

He murmurs unintelligibly and then sits, yawning and stretching as she pulls off parts of her uniform; her jade green hat is first to go and then her hard, unyielding black shoes. "What are you still doing up? I thought you would've been in bed hours ago."

"You work in Times Square and you were getting off late. Very high crime area, you know," Toby informs her. "I wanted to make sure you got home okay."

She feels better instantly. Crossing the room, she loops her arms around his neck to kiss him in greeting. "Thank you."

"Have you been drinking on the job or did you bathe in whiskey?" Toby asks and she groans. "You smell like the bar."

"I had a day," Spencer sighs and they sink back on the couch together. "You want to hear about the forty-something asshole who hit on me?"

"What? Someone hit on you? _Get out of here_ ," Toby replies in mock surprise and Spencer frowns, not amused in the slightest. "But that _never_ happens!"

"Ha, ha." She deadpans. "So I'm waiting the bar. This asshole sits down and gives me _that look_ , you know? The one where I can already tell he's going to be a little shit. He orders a Seven & Seven and then tells me to 'keep 'em comin', sweetheart'. So I held back an indignant response-"

"You held it back?" Toby interrupts. "Wow. Impressive."

"Toby," She whines. "Anyway, after the third one I asked if there was anything else I could get him and he said, 'Another one of them drinks and your number ought to do it'."

She waits for Toby to be outraged or perhaps even just a little irritated, but he grins instead. "So? Did you give it to him?"

" _Please!_ " Spencer exclaims. "My manager took me off bar and put me back on tables so I wouldn't throttle the guy. Oh, but not before he slipped me a hundred dollars and then wrote _this_ on the tip line."

In chicken scratch writing, the man had scribbled, _Nice ass._ Toby reads this and chuckles. "I mean, he's not wrong."

Spencer shakes her head, standing and heading for their bedroom. "I'm going to bed."

"Spencer, come on," Toby calls after her retreating form, following her and catching her hand just before she's reached the doorway. "I'm sorry. I'm not taking it seriously. This guy's a piece of shit, okay? I'm sorry he made you so upset. Do you want me to go down there and find him? I could beat the shit out of him for you."

"No, it was hours ago." Spencer says. "I should've told him my boyfriend's a cop."

"Oh, you hated when I was a cop but now that I'm not, you want to use it to your advantage?" Toby teases. "That's not how it works."

Spencer sighs. "I want to quit so badly. I'm way too good for this bullshit."

"Yes, you are," Toby agrees. "But it's not for much longer. As soon as you get a _paid_ internship, you won't need this, anymore."

She considers this. "Yeah…"

"And once you have your master's degree, you'll get a _real_ job," Toby continues. "And then you'll be taking the world by storm like I always knew you would."

She grins and leans closer, kissing him chastely before her arms come around his waist in a hug. Burrowing into his chest, she feels him drop a kiss to her crown before murmuring, "I'm sorry I made a joke out of it when you were obviously upset. I really am angry for you; you know I hate when people don't treat you with the respect you deserve."

"I know. It's okay. Like you said, it's not the first time," She pulls him closer. "Can we _please_ go to bed now? I want to forget this day ever happened."

"Your wish is my command," Toby replies, scooping her up bridal style and tossing her gently on the bed, crawling on top of her and peppering her with kisses.

She forgets pretty quickly, after that.

 **28- broke; poor**

"I can't believe you dragged me here."

Not for the first time this morning, Spencer rolls her eyes and the grin on her face doesn't wane. "Suck it up, buttercup. We've been living in New York for almost four months and we don't have a _couch_. Sitting on the floor to watch television is not good for your posture. Not to mention I'd like to get another couple of chairs for our dining table because I'd like to be able to feed more than two people at a time if we ever have people over."

"But… But it's so…" Toby struggles as they step inside and the vibrant yellows and blues mix with the smell of sizzling meatballs and it's all too much for him. "Swedish."

"What does that even mean?" Spencer asks, chuckling. "Hate to break it to you, but while you were away for a week at the beginning of the summer, I bought ninety percent of our furnishings and cookware from IKEA. Also our sheets and bedspread. And pretty much everything in the bathroom. And do you know why? Because IKEA is dirt cheap and in case you hadn't noticed, we're broke as fuck and dirt cheap is about all we can afford, right now."

They ascend the escalator into the showroom and immediately, Toby balks at a pretty ugly desk. "I can build something better than this thing."

"Yeah, I have no doubt, but you're _super_ busy lately and, I'm sorry, but we'll be moving out by the time you get around to making us a couch." Spencer tells him. "I never thought I'd say this, but you're being _kind_ of a snob right now."

"Oh, how the tables have turned," Toby replies and she grins. "Okay, but we're not going to spend all day here, are we?"

"This isn't _(500) Days of Summer_ ," Spencer says. "We're looking at couches and dining chairs and getting out of here."

"Famous last words," Toby tells her and, again, is met with an eye roll.

He tries to stay indifferent; really, he tries. It's easy in the home office showroom, because he doubts any of the desks are weight bearing; he could craft a sturdier, better-looking one in his sleep. It's a little more difficult in the bathroom showroom, because he's never been a plumber and he's still a bit wary on showers and sinks. And then he loses all composure by the time they get to the kitchen showrooms; they're actually pretty great. In his defense, he thinks to himself as he marvels over the granite countertops and the stainless steel appliances he won't be able to afford for another lifetime yet, the smell of Swedish meatballs and all the bright lights and confusing floor arrows have infiltrated his brain. He's pretty sure IKEA is brainwashing him into enjoying what he sees.

"Toby?" Spencer snaps him out of his reverie. "You still with me?"

"Yep," He shakes his head, crossing the showroom floor. "Dining chairs, right?"

"Yeah." She nods and motions towards the ones she's chosen. "These ones match the ones we have. Should we get two or four more?"

"How much are they?"

"Fifteen dollars."

"Fifteen? For dining chairs?" Toby exclaims and when she nods, he adds, "God, you can get _ten_ more."

She laughs. "I told you! IKEA is dirt cheap!"

"Starting to like it a little bit more, now," He says and they decide two will be enough. "If that's how cheap the chairs are, what's a couch? Fifty?"

"The one I was looking at online was one hundred and fifty," Spencer replies. "I figured we really just need a loveseat, to start with, and-"

"We should get this sectional," Toby tells her. "It's three hundred, which is a little pricey, but it looks comfortable."

He plops down upon it and tugs on her hand so she'll do the same. "It _is_ comfortable."

"I could nap right here."

"We might get thrown out."

"As long as they throw us out with the couch."

Spencer grins. "Toby, do my ears deceive me or are you starting to like this place a little more now?"

Toby shrugs. "Eh. It's growing on me."

 **29- twice begun**

It's a rainy day in early March when Hanna shows up on her doorstep, drenched from the onslaught and clutching a letter in her hand. Spencer had been in the middle of writing a very important paper, but upon the sight of her best friend in such a state, she had forgotten all about it. "I came over as soon as I got this," Hanna says, gesturing towards the torn envelope in her hands. "Check your mail."

Together, they go down to the lobby and Spencer retrieves a handful of bills, magazines and the all-important letter Hanna's describing. By the time they return to her apartment, the anticipation has become too much; Spencer's torn into it before they've even properly crossed the threshold and she's finished reading by the time the door swings shut. It's from Alison, requesting the girls' presence as witnesses at Charlotte's upcoming trial- a trial pending a decision for release. She's read it, twice now, and she's still not sure she understands. Release? Release the monster that had made their lives a living hell back into society? A society that was just getting _good_ again? Spencer's sure Alison can't _possibly_ want that and yet, it seems as though this whole thing was her idea.

"I'm not fucking doing that," Hanna explodes now that Spencer's finally up to speed. "Charlotte can rot in that prison cell for the rest of her life and I wouldn't bat an eyelash."

"I just don't get why Alison is so gung ho about releasing her all of a sudden," Spencer says. "I mean, it's been almost five years and I don't think that was enough time for Charlotte to repent and learn her lesson."

Hanna's about to reply, but her cell phone goes off instead. "Emily's calling me."

Spencer's springs to life, too. "And that would be Aria."

Together, the four girls decide that this is not something that they would endorse. When Toby arrives home hours later, Spencer gives him the full lowdown and he listens to everything she has to say before giving her his opinion and, ultimately, agreeing with her choice not to pursue it. And Spencer feels good about this decision for about a half of a second; the rest of the evening, it's all she can think about and long after they've gone to bed, she lies awake, thinking of the possibilities. They can't simply ignore this trial; what if Charlotte _is_ released, even without the girls there to speak positively on her behalf? What if she goes back to her old ways, torturing and killing and taking what isn't hers? It's these thoughts, along with memories of the texts and the dollhouse and the nightmares that still plague her to this very day, that keep her awake.

Toby rolls over to face her a little after two a.m. and asks, "Are you still thinking about Charlotte?"

"I can't stop," She confesses. "We can't just ignore this. I've known Alison long enough to know that if she wants something bad enough, she's going to get it, one way or another."

He rubs his eyes and looks just as exhausted as she feels. "So what are you going to do?"

"I need to talk to them again." Spencer decides. "We need to figure out a way to keep Charlotte out of our lives for as long as possible. Forever would be preferable."

He nods but asks, "And what about Alison?"

"I haven't quite figured that part out yet," Spencer replies honestly. "I don't think she'll take lightly to us betraying her like this."

"Neither do I," Toby says, choosing his words carefully, she can tell. "She never has before. But the difference is this time, you're all adults. You've got to think about yourself and your safety and what you do and don't feel comfortable with and if those things clash with how Alison feels, then so be it. You've got to do what's right and what's right may not always be what she wants, but what she wants may not always be right."

Spencer snuggles closer to him and he brings an arm around her in response. "Thank you. I knew I kept you around for a reason."

He chuckles and kisses her and somehow, they both manage to fall into unconsciousness. For Spencer, it lasts only a few hours, but it's dreamless and she's glad. She wakes a bit before sunrise and, from the kitchen table so as not to disturb her shining knight, she makes a phone call to the girls. It turns out, they had been just as sleepless and restless as she had been the night prior and it had brought up far too many unpleasant memories of their nights as teenagers, wishing for things to be different and waiting for change that never came. They agree, the four of them unanimous, to return to Rosewood to testify _against_ Charlotte, to put an end to another nightmare before it begins, and Spencer's still jittery even after the conversation's ended. She's toying with her phone an hour later, when Toby wakes and finds her there, and when she glances up, she knows he can see every single terrifying emotion in her eyes.

Simply, he asks, "So?"

"So," Spencer sighs. "I guess… I guess we're going back to Rosewood."

He nods and wonders, "When?"

"End of the semester," Spencer replies and then, momentarily panicking, she asks, "Will you come with me?"

Toby crosses the room to drop a reassuring kiss upon her lips, pulling back ever so slightly to promise, "As if I'd make you do this alone."

 **30- internal monologue**

Spencer's been agonizing over this trip to Rosewood for months, but it's no picnic for you, either.

This is the town that made you their pariah, that dragged your name through mud more times than you could count, that accused you of doing horrible, unspeakable things but had no single clue about the horrible, unspeakable things that were actually happening to you. This is the town of your childhood, but also your nightmares; this is the town that had taken your mother away before you could process what was happening to her, the town that bullied and bruised your best friends, the town that made a farce out of torturing the shit out of your girlfriend, the only woman you've ever loved. But none of that matters, right now. Right now, all that matters is keeping your shit together so you can help her with hers.

The moment the girls step into the courthouse, the first thing you see is Alison. She looks so pleased, so satisfied, so _indignant_ , because yes, it's been five plus years and yet she still has control over her little minions like a puppeteer with five strings. But then- you watch the moment with your own eyes- the smile slips off her face, her eyes go wide, and she actually rises from her seat like she can do something about this, but she can't. Because those four girls do not come to sit by her, with the defense. They're witnesses, alright, but they're for the other side and Alison couldn't have predicted this. You're sitting in the gallery beside Caleb, who keeps clenching and unclenching his fist like he's ready to fight Alison if she so much as _looks_ at the girls funny. And honestly, it's not like you haven't had the same thought, but what would that solve? What would that prove?

The trial takes three days. Charlotte is, ultimately, denied release and so much tension is relieved from your shoulders, you feel like a helium balloon, deflating rapidly. Alison marches out of the courtroom without so much as a second glance towards her former four best friends and Spencer's still trembling when you collect her in your arms, but she nods the moment Aria suggests they grab a drink to celebrate. There's only one bar in all of Rosewood, a seedy place by Hollis, but you all grab barstools and order a round of shots and then the room is spinning and the rest of the night's a blur. Spencer thanks you for coming with her, tells you she couldn't have done it without you, but really, where else would you be? You wish you could give her a more adequate response to her sentiment, but the liquor has clouded your vision and everything's pretty hazy.

The rest of your time in Rosewood goes by pretty slowly, after that. You visit your mother first thing, because no matter what this town was or what it is, now, it will always be her forever home. Hydrangeas were always her favorite, so you buy a bouquet and somehow manage to hold it together, this time, and Spencer comes with you and holds your hand. There's dinner with the Hastings family, where Veronica announces running for Supreme Court justice and her split with Peter all in one sentence. Melissa cries inconsolably for the rest of the evening and you keep shooting glances at Spencer, but she seems pretty numb and you make a point to ask her about her feelings, later. You do, of course, make the obligatory visit back home as well and your father asks you about a hundred questions he already knows the answers to, dances awkwardly around Spencer and then doesn't protest when you want to leave dinner before dessert. You end up wondering if there will ever be a day when the two of you will see eye to eye.

You do, however, make the trip up to that old spot on the hilltop where you and Spencer would go whenever things got too difficult and whenever you both needed an escape. The air is thinner and colder up here, that much you remember, so you peel off your jacket and drape it over her shoulders and she thanks you before snuggling into your side. And so much has changed in these five years, so much is different now, but the one thing that remains constant is your love for this girl. Because Spencer is like sunshine; everything is better when she's around and she makes even your hardest, darkest days a whole lot brighter. And when it comes to your future together, not much is one hundred percent certain; maybe she'll get her master's and want to stay in New York, or maybe you'll move somewhere else entirely. Maybe you'll travel the world and learn about new cultures, or maybe you'll just stick to this country and road trip from sea to shining sea. Maybe you'll both get high-paying jobs in offices somewhere or maybe you'll go for something a little more hands on, where work doesn't quite feel like work. Who knows? The future, for the two of you, is a brilliant and beautiful unknown.

But one thing is abundantly clear- you're going to take her hand, you're going to leave Rosewood for good and you're never going to look back.

And someday, one day _very_ soon, you're going to marry her.


End file.
